ing eggs?"

"And yet his omelet was not a success," I reflected aloud.

"Whose is, Mr. Sedgwick? We all have our Waterloos. Love, ambition, the
search for wealth--none of them satisfy. But though none of us find
happiness we yet seek. That is human nature."

I shot a question at him abruptly.

"Suppose you got all this treasure--would you keep faith with those
poor, deluded ruffians and share with them?"

His hardy smile approved me.

"You're deep, my friend. Now I wonder what I would do? My tools _are_
deluded. Wealth could not bring them the happiness they think it would.
Most of them it would ruin. I fear it would be my duty to----"

"---- let them hold the sack," I finished for him.

"Precisely."

"There is, then, no honor among thieves."

"Not a bit. No more than there is among gentlemen. But since you
object to having eggs broken, I offer you an alternative."

I waited.

"In order to save eggs I'll ask you to turn over to me the map."

"Where do you think I keep it? You've already searched my rooms and my
person. I'm no wizard."

His black eyes bored into mine.

"We've been over this ground once before, Mr. Sedgwick. You know me. I'm
here for business."

"So I judge."

"Come! This won't do. I'm a determined man. That map I'm going to have.
Unless you want the scene to close with the final exit of John Sedgwick,
find for me the map."

"Suppose I tell you that I haven't it?"

"I shall believe you, since the evidence would support the assertion. I
should then ask who has it?"

"You certainly are a man of one idea. I think I've never had the
pleasure of talking with you that you didn't switch the conversation
back to that map."

He raised the revolver.

"I asked a question."

There was a step outside, followed by a knock on the door. "Come in," I
sang out instantly.

Bothwell's furious gaze came back from the door just as I leaped. A
bullet crashed through the skylight, for my arm had deflected his. I
wrapped myself about him in silent struggle for the weapon. We swayed
against the bed and went down upon it hard, our weight tearing through
the springs. Desperately I clung to his arm to keep the weapon from
pointing at me.

"Let go, Sedgwick," a voice ordered.

Sinewy fingers had tightened on Bothwell's throat and a strong hand had
wrenched the revolver from him.

Panting, I struggled to my feet. My opportune friend covered the Russian
with his own weapon and drawled out a warning.