ie had an inspiration. It was hopeless, she knew, to try to
convince this poor demented creature, obsessed with his _idee fixe_,
that she was not Miss Milliken. Denial would be a waste of time, and
might even infuriate him into precipitating the tragedy. It was
imperative that she should humour him. And, while she was humouring him,
it suddenly occurred to her, why not do it thoroughly?

"Mr. Peters," she cried, "you are quite mistaken!"

"I beg your pardon," said Jno. Peters, with not a little asperity.
"Nothing of the kind!"

"You are!"

"I assure you I am not. Quickness in the draw is essential...."

"You have been misinformed."

"Well, I had it direct from the man at the Rupert Street range," said
Mr. Peters stiffly. "And if you have ever seen a picture called 'Two-Gun
Thomas'...."

"Mr. Peters," cried Billie desperately. He was making her head swim with
his meaningless ravings. "Mr. Peters, hear me! I am not married to a man
at Ealing West!"

Mr. Peters betrayed no excitement at the information. This girl seemed
for some reason to consider her situation an extraordinary one, but many
women, he was aware, were in a similar position. In fact, he could not
at the moment think of any of his feminine acquaintances who _were_
married to men at Ealing West.

"Indeed?" he said politely.

"Won't you believe me?" exclaimed Billie wildly.

"Why, certainly, certainly," said Jno. Peters.

"Thank God!" said Billie. "I'm not even engaged! It's all been a
terrible mistake!"

When two people in a small room are speaking on two distinct and
different subjects and neither knows what on earth the other is driving
at, there is bound to be a certain amount of mental confusion; but at
this point Jno. Peters, though still not wholly equal to the
intellectual pressure of the conversation, began to see a faint shimmer
of light behind the clouds. In a nebulous kind of way he began to
understand that the girl had come to consult the firm about a
breach-of-promise action. Some unknown man at Ealing West had been
trifling with her heart--hardened lawyer's clerk as he was, that
poignant cry "I'm not even engaged!" had touched Mr. Peters--and she
wished to start proceedings. Mr. Peters felt almost in his depth again.
He put the revolver in his pocket, and drew out a note-book.

"I should be glad to hear the facts," he said with professional
courtesy. "In the absence of the guv'nor...."

"I have told you the facts!"

"This ma