er of us.
Will you shake on that?"

For a moment the leader hesitated, then his fingers closed over the
extended hand of Ronicky Doone and clamped down on them like so many
steel wires contracting. At the same time a flush of excitement and
fierceness passed over the face of John Mark. Ronicky Doone, taken
utterly by surprise, was at a great disadvantage. Then he put the
whole power of his own hand into the grip, and it was like iron
meeting iron. A great rage came in the eyes of John Mark; a great
wonder came in the eyes of the Westerner. Where did John Mark get his
sudden strength?

"Well," said Ronicky, "we've shaken hands, and now you can do what you
please! Sit down, leave the room--anything." He shoved his gun away
in his clothes. That brought a start from John Mark and a flash of
eagerness, but he repressed the idea, after a single glance at the
girl.

"We've shaken hands," he admitted slowly, as though just realizing the
full extent of the meaning of that act. "Very well, Ronicky, I'll send
for Caroline Smith, and more power to your tongue, but you'll never
get her away from this house without force."

Chapter Thirteen

_Doone Wins_

A servant answered the bell almost at once. "Tell Miss Smith that
she's wanted in Miss Tolliver's room," said Mark, and, when the
servant disappeared, he began pacing up and down the room. Now and
then he cast a sharp glance to the side and scrutinized the face
of Ronicky Doone. With Ruth's permission, the latter had lighted a
cigarette and was smoking it in bland enjoyment. Again the leader
paused directly before the girl, and, with his feet spread and his
head bowed in an absurd Napoleonic posture, he considered every
feature of her face. The uncertain smile, which came trembling on her
face, elicited no response from Mark.

She dreaded him, Ronicky saw, as a slave dreads a cruel master. Still
she had a certain affection for him, partly as the result of many
benefactions, no doubt, and partly from long acquaintance; and, above
all, she respected his powers of mind intensely. The play of emotion
in her face--fear, anger, suspicion--as John Mark paced up and down
before her, was a study.

With a secret satisfaction Ronicky Doone saw that her glances
continually sought him, timidly, curiously. All vanity aside, he had
dropped a bomb under the feet of John Mark, and some day the bomb
might explode.

There was a tap at the door, it opened and Caroline Smith entere