r the first time to become aware of the
presence of the huddled form on the floor near the wall. She could see
that the Sparrow was bound and gagged, and as he squirmed now he turned
his face toward her.

"Why, it's the Sparrow, isn't it?" she exclaimed sharply; then, evenly,
to the two men: "I had no idea you were so hospitable! Push your chairs
closer together--with your feet, not your hands! You are easier to watch
if you are not too far apart."

Dangler complied sullenly. Skeeny, over the scraping of his chair legs,
cursed in a sort of unnerved abandon, as he obeyed her.

"Thank you!" said Rhoda Gray pleasantly--and calmly tucked the necklace
into her bodice.

The act seemed to rouse Danglar to the last pitch of fury. The blood
rushed in an angry tide to his face, and, suffusing, purpled his cheeks.

"This isn't the first crack you've made!" he flung out hoarsely. "You've
been getting wise to a whole lot lately somehow, you and that dude pal
of yours, but you'll pay for it, you female devil! Understand? By God,
you'll pay for it! I promise you that you'll pray yet on your bended
knees for the chance to take your own life! Do you hear?"

"I hear," said Rhoda Gray coldly.

She picked up the jack-knife from the table, and keeping both men
covered, stepped backward to the wall. Here, kneeling, she reached
behind her with her left hand, and felt for, and cut the heavy cord that
bound the Sparrow's arms; then, pushing the knife into the Sparrow's
hands that he might free himself from the rest of his bonds, she stood
up again.

A moment more, and the Sparrow, rubbing the circulation back into his
wrists, stood beside her. There was a look on the young, white face that
was not good to see. He circled dry lips with the tip of his tongue and
then his thumb began to feel over the blade of the big jack-knife in a
sort of horribly supercritical appraisal of its edge. He spoke thickly
for the gag that had been in his mouth.

"You dirty skates!" he whispered. "You were going to bump me off, were
you? You planted me cold, did you? Oh, hell!" His laugh, like the laugh
of one insane, jangling, discordant, rang through the room. "Well,
it's my turn now, and"--his body was coiling itself in a slow, curious,
almost snake-like fashion--"and you'll--"

Rhoda Gray laid her hand on the Sparrow's arm.

"Not that way, Marty," she said quietly. She smiled thinly at Danglar,
who, with genuinely frightened eyes now, seemed fascinate