prison with? They don't
seem very strong. I could break them as though they were thread."

"That will do, Mr Amena. You've got them on now, and we don't want any
more of your conjuring tricks. Come along, and take it quietly like a
sensible man."

Hendry was fast losing patience, and Von Hamner was doing all he could
to keep his finger off the trigger of the revolver.

"Ah yes, conjuring tricks you call them, you ignorants! Now look. You
have put the handcuffs on to my wrists. Is this a conjuring trick? See!"

He held his arms out towards them, his two hands chained together.

"Mr Hendry, be good enough to take my right hand, and you, Herr von
Hamner, my left. So; now shake my hands. You see, there are the
handcuffs on the floor."

It was only a shake of the hands, but the clink of the steel followed as
the bracelets dropped from his wrists. He stooped down, and inside ten
seconds they were clipped round Von Hamner's. In the same instant he had
twitched the revolver out of his hand and pointed it at Hendry's face.

"Now, gentlemen, you were talking about taking the law into your own
hands. I, you see, have taken it into mine. What do you propose to do? I
am quite at your service. Your idea of arresting me on a charge of
receiving stolen goods is, if you will allow me to say so, absurd. You
could no more make me guilty of that than you could hang me for the
deaths of those foolish spies of yours. Now, what is it to be? Pardon
me, Herr von Hamner: the bracelets inconvenience you. Allow me." He took
the handcuffs between his finger and thumb, shook the chain, and they
dropped into his hand. "You will feel more comfortable now."

"Yes, and I'll make you less comfortable in Hell, where you should have
been long ago," shouted Von Hamner, jumping at him the moment his hands
were free, and snatching the revolver out of his hand. The pistol went
up before Hendry could get hold of his arm, and he fired. Phadrig put
his hand up, and when the smoke had drifted away, he held it out to Von
Hamner, and said:

"I think that is your bullet, mein Herr."

The bullet was lying in the palm of his hand, a little out of shape
through passing the rifling, but still the same bullet.

The German's face turned a reddish-grey, and Nicol Hendry, with all his
courage, was not feeling particularly well. As a matter of fact, he was,
for the first time in his life, absolutely frightened. A man who could
deal with handcuffs as though they w