over
Loge's countenance. His attitude, which had been one of baffled rage,
relaxed. As Cleggett paused the sneer came back upon Loge's lips.

"Boob," he said quietly, "boob is the word. Look above you."

A sharp metallic click overhead gave point to Loge's words. Looking up,
Cleggett saw that a trap-door had opened in the ceiling, and through
the aperture Pierre, who had left the room some moments before with the
bartender, was pointing a revolver, which he had just cocked, at
Cleggett's head. He sighted along the barrel with an eager,
anticipatory smile upon his face; Pierre would, no doubt, have
preferred to see a man boiled in oil rather than merely shot, but
shooting was something, and Pierre evidently intended to get all the
delight possible out of the situation.

Cleggett's own pistol was within an inch of Loge's stomach.

"I was willing to pay you real money," said Loge, "for the sake of
peace. But you're a damned fool if you think you can throw me down and
then walk straight out of here to headquarters." Then he added,
showing his yellow teeth: "You WOULD bring pistols into the
conversation, you know. That was YOUR idea. And now you're in a devil
of a fix."

The man certainly had an iron nerve; he spoke as calmly as if
Cleggett's weapon were not in existence; there was nothing but the
pressure of a finger wanting to send both him and Cleggett to eternity.
Yet he jested; he laid his strong and devilish will across Cleggett's
mentality; it was a duel in which the two minds met and tried each
other like swords; the first break in intention, and one or the other
was a dead man. Cleggett felt the weight of that powerful and evil
soul upon his own almost as if it were a physical thing.

"You are not altogether safe yourself," said Cleggett grimly, with his
eyes fixed on Pierre's and his pistol touching Loge's waistband. "If
Pierre so much as winks an eye--if you move a hair's breadth--I'll put
a stream of bullets through YOU. Understand?"

How long this singular psychological combat might have lasted before a
nerve quivered somewhere and brought the denouement of a double death,
there is no telling. For accident (or fate) intervened to pluck these
antagonists back into life and rob the gloating Pierre of the happiness
of seeing two men perish without danger to himself. Something of
uncertain shape, but of a blue color, loomed vaguely behind Pierre's
head; loomed and suddenly descended to the accomp