on
slipped from his grasp to the other side of the room. In doing so he
knocked his arm against the corner of the packing-case, so that his
revolver fell to the ground.

With a shout Rupert stooped and seized it, and straightened himself
to see that Deede Dawson had already another revolver in his hand--a
second one that he had drawn from an inner pocket.

They remained very still, watching each other intently, neither eager
to fire, since both wished first to make the other speak. For Rupert
desired very greatly that Deede Dawson should tell him where Ella was,
and Deede Dawson needed that Rupert should explain what had gone wrong,
and how imminent and great was the danger that therefore most likely
threatened him.

Each knew, too, that the slightest movement he made would set the other
shooting, and each realized that in that close and narrow space any
exchange of shots must almost of necessity mean the death of both, since
both were cool and deadly marksmen, well accustomed to the use of the
revolver.

Deede Dawson was the first to speak.

"Well, what next?" he said. "If that inkpot of yours had hit me it would
pretty well have knocked my brains out, and if I hadn't hit my elbow
against the corner of the packing-case I would have had you shot through
with holes like a sieve by now. So far the score's even. Let's chat a
bit, and see if we can't come to some arrangement. Look, I'll show I
trust you."

As he spoke he laid down, much to Rupert's surprise, and to his equal
suspicion, his revolver on the top of a moth-eaten roll of old carpet
that leaned against the wall near where he was standing.

"You see, I trust you," he said once more.

"Take your pistol up again," answered Rupert grimly. "I do not trust
you."

"Ah, that's a pity." Deede Dawson smiled, making no effort to do as the
other said. "You see, we are both good shots, and if we start blazing
away at each other up here we shall both be leaking pretty badly before
long. That's a prospect that has no attraction for me; I don't know
if it has for you. But there are things I can tell you that might be
interesting, and things you can tell me I want to know. Why not exchange
a little information, and then separate calmly, rather than indulge in
pistol practice that can only mean the death of us both? For if your
first bullet goes though my brain I swear my first will be in your
heart."

"Likely enough," agreed Rupert, "but worth while perhaps."

"Oh