tering, as he struggled vainly.

Events had followed so rapidly that Peter hadn't had time to think of
anything but his own danger. He had acted with the instinct of
self-preservation, which was almost quicker than his thought, but as he
knew now what had happened he realized that he, too, had been tricked by
McGuire and that the murderous volley directed at Hawk Kennedy had come
perilously near doing for himself. With the calm which followed the
issue of his struggle with Kennedy, came a dull rage at McGuire for
placing him in such danger, which only showed his employer's desperate
resolve and his indifference to Peter's fate. For Hawk Kennedy had been
within his rights in supposing Peter to be concerned in the trick and
only the miracle of the expiring torch which had blinded the intruder
had saved Peter from the fate intended for Hawk. Peter understood now
the meaning of McGuire's explicit instructions and the meaning of the
changing of the guards. The old man had hoped to kill his enemy with one
shot and save himself the recurrence of his terror. What had become of
him now? There was no sound among the bushes or any sign of him. He had
slipped away like the poltroon that he was, leaving Peter to his fate.

"Damn you!" Hawk muttered again. "What did _you_ want to come meddling
for!"

The man couldn't be dangerously hurt if he possessed the power of
invective and so, having possessed himself of Hawk's automatic, Peter
got off his chest and fumbled around for the electric torch.

"It won't do you any good to lie there cursing me. Get up, if you're
able to."

"Got me in the shoulder," muttered the man.

"And he might have gotten _me_," said Peter, "which would have been
worse."

"You mean--you didn't--_know_," groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting
posture.

"No. I didn't," replied Peter.

He had found the torch now and was flashing it around on the ground
while he picked up the scattered money.

"I'll fix him for this," groaned the stranger.

Peter glanced at him.

"His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up."

"I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to _me_. They'd better leave me
alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother
me." Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the
bills and heard him ask haltingly, "What are you--going to do--with that
money?"

"My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?"

Peter turned and for