, that's fanaticism," Deede Dawson answered. "Flattering perhaps to
me, but not quite reasonable, eh?"

"There's only one thing I want to know from you," Rupert said slowly.

"Then why not ask it, why not agree to the little arrangement I suggest,
eh? Eh, Rupert Dunsmore?"

"You know me, then?"

"Oh, long enough."

"Where is Ella?"

Deede Dawson laughed again.

"That's a thing I know and you don't," he said. "Well, she's safe away
in London by this time."

"That's a lie, for her mother's here still," answered Rupert, even
though his heart leapt merely to hear the words.

"Unbelieving Thomas," smiled the other. "Well, then, she is where
she is, and that you can find out for yourself. But I'll make another
suggestion. We are both good shots, and if we start to fire we shall
kill each other. I am certain of killing you, but I shan't escape
myself. Well, then, why not toss for it? Equal chances for both, and
certain safety for one. Will you toss me, the one who loses to give up
his pistol to the other?"

"It seems to me a good idea," Deede Dawson argued. "Here we are watching
each other like cats, and knowing that the least movement of either will
start the other off, and both of us pulling trigger as hard as we can.
My idea would mean a chance for one. Well, let's try another way; the
best shot to win. You don't trust me, but I will you."

Leaving his pistol lying where he had put it down, he crossed the attic,
and with a pencil he took from his pocket drew a circle on the panel of
the wardrobe door that Rupert had split with the inkpot he had thrown.

In the centre of the circle he marked a dot, and turned smilingly to the
frowning and suspicious Rupert.

"There you are," he said, and made another circle near the first one.
"Now you put a bullet into the middle of this circle and I'll put one
afterwards through the second circle, and the one who is nearest to the
dots I've marked, wins. What have you to say to that? Seems to me better
than our killing each other. Isn't it?"

"I think you're playing the fool for some reason of your own," answered
Rupert. "There's only one thing I want to know from you. Where is Ella?"

"Let me know how you can shoot," answered Deede Dawson, "and I'll tell
you, by all that's holy, I will."

Rupert hesitated. He did not understand all this, he could not imagine
what motive was in Deede Dawson's mind, though it was certainly true
enough that once they began shooting at eac