but the pattern of the turkey carpet was intact, the big brass-headed
nails were in the corners and along the fireplace.

"'There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of
in your philosophy,'" Sartoris quoted. "As a rule your soldier is a dull
man and not gifted with much imagination. And so you have taken this
matter up on the principle that Satan finds some mischief still for idle
hands to do. You see that I am in a mood to quote to-night. But on the
whole you are not what the world calls a bad fellow. On the contrary, I
_am_. And that being the case, and as I am not supposed to be in the
least scrupulous in my methods, it stands to reason that I am likely to
get the better of you. Now you are a man of honour, and if you give your
word it is as good as your bond. Give me your word that not one
suggestion of what has taken place here to-night shall be spoken, and
you are free to go."

Berrington laughed as he looked around him.

"Who is going to stop me?" he asked. "You seem to be sure of your
ground. If you were not a cripple I would give you the most perfect
specimen of a thrashing that you ever had in your life. My word will be
passed to worthier stuff than you."

"So you are going to take advantage of my weakness and walk out of the
house?" Sartoris asked.

"That is part of the programme," Berrington said. "I feel perfectly sure
that a bold front would dismay your friends. I wish you good night."

CHAPTER XXII

Sartoris sat in his chair without expressing any opinion or emotion of
any kind. There was just a faint suggestion of a smile on his face as if
he were getting a little more pleasure than usual out of his cigarette.
He glanced quite casually in the direction of the doorway, and he moved
his chair just a little. Then his left hand stole quietly to his side.

"The battle is not always to the strong," he said in quite a gentle tone
of voice. "But since you will not give me your word, I must do without
it. If you want to go, there is no reason why I should detain you any
longer. Good night, sir, and pleasant dreams to you."

Though the words were uttered in quite a simple fashion, there was a
ring about them that Berrington did not altogether like. He wanted to
flatter himself that he had conquered this murderous ruffian by sheer
force of will, as he had done more than once with certain native tribes
that he had been sent out against.

But he could not think that he had