ou could not be so
conventional."

"But I AM conventional!" protested Miss Dale. "And I am not USED
to having young men tell me they have 'come into my life to
stay'--certainly not young men who come into my life by way of a
trap-door, and without an introduction, without a name, without even a
hat! It's absurd! It's not real! It's a nightmare!"

"The whole situation is absurd!" Ford declared. "Here we are in the
heart of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police--at least,
hope we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling around
the floor on our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it were
a nightmare. But, as it's not"--he rose to his feet--"I think I'll
try----"

He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of
Prothero.

"You, navy officer!" he panted. "Come to the door! Stand close to it so
that I needn't shout. Come, quick!"

Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she was, he
ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress lifted one of
the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at one end, he swung the
bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a baseball bat. As a weapon it
seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. Then once more he placed himself
with his back to the wall. "Do you hear me?" roared Prothero.

"I hear you!" returned Ford. "If you want to talk to me, open the door
and come inside."

"Listen to me," called Prothero. "If I open the door you may act the
fool, and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind to let
you live. You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a few moments
I will leave it, but where I am going I'll need money, and I want the
bank-notes in that blue envelope." Ford swung the iron club in short
half-circles.

"Come in and get them!" he called.

"Don't trifle with me!" roared the Jew, "I may change my mind. Shove the
money through the crack under the door."

"And get shot!" returned Ford. "Not bit like it!"

"If, in one minute," shouted Prothero, "I don't see the money coming
through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, and neither
of you will live!"

Resting the bar in the crook of his elbow, Ford snatched the bank-notes
from the envelope, and, sticking them in his pocket, placed the empty
envelope on the floor. Still keeping out of range, and using his iron
bar as a croupier uses his rake, he pushed the envelope across the
carpet and under the door. When half of it had