get away."

"All right," she said gleefully. Getting her hat off the trunk, she
crossed to the mirror and put it on.

He surveyed the room and laughed.

"You've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think we're moving a
whole colony. And, by the way, to me you are a whole colony--anyway,
you're the only one I ever wanted to settle with."

"That's good," she laughed lightly.

Taking her bag off the bureau, she went to the trunk and got her purse,
coat and umbrella, as if ready to leave. Hurriedly gathering her things
together and adjusting her hat, she said, almost to herself, in a low
tone:

"I'm so excited. Come on!"

Madison went to get his hat and coat, and both were about to leave,
when suddenly they heard the outer door slam. Instinctively both halted
and waited. Who could it be? John looked questioningly at Laura, who
stood, pale as death and as motionless as if changed into marble. A
moment later Brockton entered leisurely, with his hat on and his coat,
half-drawn off, hanging loosely on his arm. He paid no attention to
either of them, but walked straight through the room, without speaking,
and disappeared through the _portieres_ into the sleeping apartments
beyond. His manner was that of a man who knows he is at home and has no
account to render to anyone either for the manner of his entrance or
what rooms he may enter. Laura, who at first had made a quick movement
forward, as if to bar his further progress, fell back, terrified.
Putting her coat, bag and umbrella down on a chair, she stood, dazed
and trembling, powerless to avert the crisis which she realized was at
hand. Madison, who had watched the broker's actions with amazement,
suddenly grew rigid as a statue. His square jaw snapped with a
determined click, and one hand slipped stealthily into his hip pocket.
No one spoke. The tense silence was ominous and painful.

It seemed like an hour, but less than a minute had elapsed when
Brockton reentered, with coat and hat off. Carelessly picking up a
newspaper, he took a seat in the armchair, and, leisurely crossing his
legs, looked over at the others, who still stood motionless, watching
him. Greeting John lightly, he said:

"Hello, Madison, when did you get in?"

Slowly John seemed to recover himself. Suddenly his hand went swiftly
to his hip pocket and he drew out a revolver. Eyeing the broker with
savage determination, he deliberately and slowly covered him with the
deadly weapon. Brockton,