ill studying her intently. She did not reply, but turned to
Perkins.

"How are you, Mr. Perkins? Do you require medical attention?"

"No," growled Perkins from the seat in which he had crouched immediately
after eating. "Keep away from me, or I'll cut your heart out!"

"Shut up!" snapped DuQuesne. "Remember what I said?"

"I haven't done anything," snarled the other.

"I said I would throw you out if you made another break," DuQuesne
informed him evenly, "and I meant it. If you can't talk decently, keep
still. Understand that you are to keep off Miss Vaneman, words and
actions. I am in charge of her, and I will put up with no interference
whatever. This is your last warning."

"How about Spencer, then?"

"I have nothing to say about her, she's not mine," responded DuQuesne
with a shrug.

An evil light appeared in Perkins' eyes and he took out a wicked-looking
knife and began to strop it carefully upon the leather of the seat,
glaring at his victim the while.

"Well, _I_ have something to say...." blazed Dorothy, but she was
silenced by a gesture from Margaret, who calmly took the pistol from her
pocket, jerked the slide back, throwing a cartridge into the chamber,
and held the weapon up on one finger, admiring it from all sides.

* * * * *

"Don't worry about his knife. He has been sharpening it for my benefit
for the last month. He doesn't mean anything by it."

At this unexpected show of resistance, Perkins stared at her for an
instant, then glanced at his coat.

"Yes, this was yours, once. You needn't bother about picking up your
coat, they're both gone. You might be tempted to throw that knife, so
drop it on the floor and kick it over to me before I count three.

"One." The heavy pistol steadied into line with his chest and her finger
tightened on the trigger.

"Two." He obeyed and she picked up the knife. He turned to DuQuesne, who
had watched the scene unmoved, a faint smile upon his saturnine face.

"Doctor!" he cried, shaking with fear. "Why don't you shoot her or take
that gun away from her? Surely you don't want to see me murdered?"

"Why not?" replied DuQuesne calmly. "It is nothing to me whether she
kills you or you kill her. You brought it on yourself by your own
carelessness. Any man with brains doesn't leave guns lying around within
reach of prisoners, and a blind man could have seen Miss Vaneman getting
your hardware."

"You saw her take them and didn'