ly at
Miss Dale.

"Prothero!" he called.

Again for a full minute he waited and again called, and then, as there
still was no reply, he struck the door sharply with his knuckles. On the
instant the voice of the Jew rang forth in an angry bellow.

"Keep away from that door!" he commanded.

Ford turned to Miss Dale and bent his head close to hers.

"Now, why the devil didn't he answer?" he whispered. "Was it because he
wasn't there; or is he planning to steal away and wants us to think
that even if he does not answer, he's still outside?" The girl nodded
eagerly.

"This is it," she whispered. "My uncle is a coward or rather he is very
wise, and has left the house. And Prothero means to follow, but he wants
us to think he's still on guard. If we only KNEW!" she exclaimed.

As though in answer to her thought, the voice of Prothero called to
them.

"Don't speak to me again," he warned. "If you do, I'll not answer, or
I'll shoot!"

Flattened against the wall, close to the hinges of the door, Ford
replied flippantly and defiantly:

"That makes conversation difficult, doesn't it?" he called.

There was a bursting report, and a bullet splintered the panel of the
door, flattened itself against the fireplace, and fell tinkling into the
grate.

"I hope I hit you!" roared the Jew.

Ford pressed his lips tightly together. Whatever happy retort may have
risen to them was forever lost. For an exchange of repartee, the moment
did not seem propitious.

"Perhaps now," jeered Prothero, "you'll believe I'm in earnest!"

Ford still resisted any temptation to reply. He grinned apologetically
at the girl and shrugged his shoulders. Her face was white, but it was
white from excitement, not from fear.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered. "He IS mad--quite mad!"

Ford glanced at the bullet-hole in the panel of the door. It was on a
line with his heart. He looked at Miss Dale; her shoulder was on a level
with his own, and her eyes were following his.

"In case he does that again," said Ford, "we would be more comfortable
sitting down."

With their shoulders against the wall, the two young people sank to
the floor. The position seemed to appeal to them as humorous, and, when
their eyes met, they smiled.

"To a spectator," whispered Ford encouragingly, "we MIGHT appear to
be getting the worst of this. But, as a matter of fact, every minute
Cuthbert does not come means that the next minute may bring him."

"You don't be