any years.

V

Graylock looked at Drene's heavily sagging pocket and knew what was in
it. A sudden sweat chilled his temples, but he said steadily enough:

"I'd like to say a word or two--if you'll give me time." And, as Drene
made no reply;--"You're quite right: This business of ours should be
finished one way or another. I can't stand it any longer."

"In that case," remarked Drene with an evil stare at him, "I may
postpone it--to find out how much you can stand." He dropped his right
hand into the sagging pocket, looking intently at Graylock all the
while:

"What do you want here anyway?"

"I fancy that you have already guessed."

"Maybe. All the same, what do you want?"--fumbling with his bulging
pocket for a moment and then remaining motionless.

Graylock's worn eyes rested on the outline of the shrouded weapon: he
stood eyeing it absently for a moment, then seated himself on the sofa,
his heavy eyes shifting from one object to another.

But there were few objects to be seen in that silent place;--a star
overhead glimmering through the high expanse of glass above;--otherwise
gray monotony of wall, a clay shape or two swathed in wet clothes, a
narrow ring of lamp light, and formless shadow.

"It's a long time, Drene."

Drene mused in silence, now and then watching the other obliquely.

Presently he withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket, pulled an
armchair toward him and seated himself.

"It's many years," repeated Graylock. "I expected you to do something
before this."

"Were you uneasy?" sneered Drene. Then he shrugged, knowing that
Graylock was no coward, sorry he had intimated as much, like a man who
deals a premature and useless blow.

He sat brooding for a while, his lean dangerous head lowered sideways as
though listening; his oblique glance always covering Graylock.

"I suppose you'll be surprised when I tell you one reason that I came
here," said Graylock.

"Do you suppose you can still surprise me by anything you may say or
do?"

The man remained silent, sitting with his hands tightly clasped on his
knees.

"Drene," he said, in a low voice, "don't strike at me through this young
girl."

Drene began to laugh, unpleasantly.

"Are you in love with her?"

"Yes.... You know it."

Drene said, still laughing: "It's the common rumor. You may imagine it
amuses your friends--if you have any left."

Graylock spoke in a voice that had a ghostly sound in the great room:

"