at I should beg your acceptance of
this little trifle."

"Sooner or later," Peter Ruff said genially, "I should like to have a
little conversation with you, Major. I fancy that we ought to be able to
find plenty of subjects of common interest."

"Delighted, I'm sure!" the latter answered, utterly unsuspicious. "Shall
we go into the smoking-room now, or would you rather play a rubber
first?"

"If it is all the same to you," Peter Ruff said, "I think we will have a
cigar first. There will be plenty of time for bridge afterwards."

"May I offer you a cigar, sir?" Major Jones inquired, passing across a
well-filled case.

Peter Ruff sighed.

"I am afraid, Major," he said, "that there is scarcely time. You see, I
have a warrant in my pocket for your arrest, and I am afraid that by the
time we got to the station--"

Major Jones leaned forward in his chair. He gripped the sides tightly
with both hands. His eyes seemed to be protruding from his head.

"For my what?" he exclaimed, in a tone of horror.

"For your arrest," Peter Ruff explained calmly. "Surely you must have
been expecting it! During all these years you must have grown used to
expecting it at every moment!"

Major Jones collapsed. He looked at Ruff as one might look at a man who
has taken leave of his senses. Yet underneath it all was the coward's
fear!

"What are you talking about, man?" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?
Lower your voice, for heaven's sake! Consider my position here! Some
one might overhear! If this is a joke, let me tell you that it's a
d----d foolish one!"

Peter Ruff raised his eyebrows.

"I do not wish," he said, "to create a disturbance--my manner of coming
here should have assured you of that. At the same time, business is
business. I hold a warrant for your arrest, and I am forced to execute
it."

"Do you mean that you are a detective, then?" Major Jones demanded.

He was a big man, but his voice seemed to have grown very small indeed.

"Naturally," Peter Ruff answered. "I should not come here without
authority."

"What is the charge?" the other man faltered.

"Blackmail," Peter Ruff said slowly. "The information against you is
lodged by Sir Richard Dyson."

It seemed to Peter Ruff, who was watching his companion closely, that a
wave of relief passed over the face of the man who sat cowering in his
chair. He certainly drew a little gasp--stretched out his hands, as
though to thrust the shadow of some fear from him. Hi