ch I do not
think I have broken since I was eighteen. Also the fact that I intend
to leave the country--finally, to the best of my belief."

"But you must have a duplicate of this slip?"

"None. I have a mass of rough memoranda, from which I could after some
trouble reconstruct it, but this I should destroy. After that, unless
I had free access to the bank, I should be helpless. And in six
months, barring accidents, you will be able to set everything straight:
you have left the way open admirably."

The president folded the list small, and pushing aside the tail of his
frock-coat, put the square of paper into his hip pocket--an odd
selection, it seemed to Weldon.

"And where did you say you were going?" he inquired, in his perfunctory
voice.

"I did not say," Weldon returned, marvelling at the man's control, "but
I am going south somewhere."

"No," said the president quickly, still pushing the list deep into his
hip pocket, "you are not. You are going to die, Mr. Weldon," and
something shone in his hand on the flap of the pocket.

His elbow was crooked back; his muscles were those of an elderly man,
not quite coordinated with his tongue. In a breath, a space too short
for thought, Weldon flung himself across the gap between them and drove
his head and shoulders straight at the rounded, broadcloth vest: under
his impact the elaborate swivel-chair slipped, swayed, crashed to the
ground, and they went down together, Weldon's weight on the bent arm.

He raised himself cautiously, hands pressed on the fat shoulder under
him.

"The old fox! The old fox!" he muttered aggrievedly. "Shoot me, would
he? Murdering old fox!"

There was no heaving in the heavy body under him, but he was not to be
easily hoodwinked now--he had had a taste of the man's mettle. He held
his breath and listened: the clock ticked tolerantly, wealthily; the
flames flickered in the open, sea-coal fire; there were no other sounds
at all.

Reaching with infinite care around the relaxed, portly body he felt for
the hip pocket and drew out the small revolver, then sprang quickly
backward.

"Get up, Mr. Deeping!" he said softly, "get up, sir, some one may come."

But it seemed that for once the president was indifferent to
appearances, for he did not move, but lay as he had fallen, with one
bent arm. Weldon walked over to him and lifted the coat-tail from his
face. Then he perceived that it was improbable that Mr. Deeping would
ever