more time on this fellow. He's
bluffing--can't carry out anything he promises."

Ismay turned toward him, expostulant.

"What d' you mean by that?" he demanded.

"Miss Searle has escaped," said Staff deliberately.

"No!" cried Ismay, startled and thrown off his guard by the fear it
might be so. "Impossible!"

"Think so?" As he spoke Staff dextrously snatched up the uppermost
pillow and with a twist of his hand sent it whirling into the thief's
face.

It took him utterly unawares. His arms flew up too late to ward it off,
and he staggered back a pace.

"Lots of impossible things keep happening all the time," chuckled Staff
as he closed in.

There was hardly a struggle. Staff's left arm clipped the man about the
waist at the same time that his right hand deftly abstracted the pistol
from its convenient pocket. Then, dropping the weapon into his own
pocket, he transferred his hold to Ismay's collar and spun him round
with a snap that fairly jarred his teeth.

"There, confound you!" he said, exploring his pockets for other lethal
weapons and finding nothing but three loaded clips ready to be inserted
in the hollow butt of the pistol already confiscated. "Now what 'm I
going to do with you, you blame' little pest?"

The question was more to himself than to Ismay, but the latter,
recovering with astonishing quickness, answered Staff by suddenly
squirming out of his coat and leaving it in his assailant's hands as he
ducked to the door and flung himself out.

Staff broke into a laugh as the patter of the little man's feet was
heard on the stairs.

"Resourceful beggar," he commented, going to the window and rolling up
the coat as he went. He reached it just in time to see the thief dodge
out.

The coat, opening as it descended, fell like a blanket round Ismay's
head. He stumbled, tripped and fell headlong down the steps, sprawling
and cursing.

"Thought you might need it," Staff apologised as the man picked himself
up and darted away.

He turned to confront an infuriated edition of Alison.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded with a stamp of her foot. "What
right had you to interfere? I was beating him down; in another minute
we'd have come to terms--"

"Oh, don't be silly, my dear," said Staff, taking his revolver from the
desk-drawer and placing it in the hip-pocket of tradition. "To begin
with, I don't mind telling you I don't give much of a whoop whether you
ever get that necklace back or not." He gr