getting to his feet, groping for some support;
and the girl's arm was offered and he leaned on it a moment, clearing his
eyes with a gloved hand. Suddenly he made a movement so quick that she
never understood how she wrenched the short, dull-blue weapon from his
hand.

"Pick up your hat!" she gasped. "Do what I tell you!"

He looked at her, dazed, then the blood blotted his dark eyes again. She
stooped swiftly, caught up his hat, and, holding tightly to his arm,
opened the other door of the taxicab.

"They'll kill you here," she whispered. "Come with me. I've got to talk
to you!"

"Lady--are you crazy?" demanded the tall head-porter, aghast.

But she had got him into the cab. "Drive on," she said through clenched
teeth. And the chauffeur laughed and started east.

In the swaying cab the man beside her sat bent over, his face in his
hands, blood striping the fingers of his gloves. With a shudder she
placed the automatic weapon on the cushion beside her and shrank back,
staring at him.

But his senses seemed to be returning, for presently he sat up, found his
handkerchief, staunched the rather insignificant abrasion, and settled
back into his corner. Without looking at her he said:

"Would you mind if I thank you? You have been very kind."

She could not utter a word.

Presently he turned; and as he looked at her for the first time a faint
flicker of humour seemed to touch his eyes.

"Where are we going--if you don't mind?" he said pleasantly.

Then the breathless words came, haltingly.

"I've got to tell you something; I've _got_ to! I can't stand aside--I
_can't_ pass by on the other side!"

"Thank you," he said, smiling, "but Lazarus is all right now."

"I mean--something else!" Her voice fell to a whisper. "I _must_ speak!"

He looked pleasantly perplexed, smiling.

"Is there anything--except a broken head--that could possibly permit me
the opportunity of listening to you?"

"I--have seen you before."

"And I you."

She leaned against her window, head resting on her hand, her heart a
chaos.

"Where are you going when--when I leave you?" she said.

He did not answer.

"Where?" She turned to look at him. "Are you going back to that hotel?"
And, as he made no reply: "Do you wish to become a murderer, too?" she
said tremulously. "I have your pistol. I ask you not to go back there."

After a moment he said: "No, I won't go back. . . . Where is the pistol?"

"You shall not have it."

"I thi