ny girl against you," he was cut short again. "But
I do know this girl. I won't say how. I know you're the dirt under her
feet, and if I hadn't made sure every way that she was out of the
house, I'd have set the police onto you as--as I _wouldn't_ set
terriers onto a rat."

"You--you can't tell me her name--or anything about her--I'll bet!"

"You won't bet with me. And neither of us is going to speak her name
here. Shut your mouth on it if you don't want it stuffed down your
throat and your teeth after it. You've been a villain. That's the one
thing that stands out in this business. God! do you think you could
make me believe anything wrong about that girl--_you_? Why, if an
angel looped the loop down from heaven to do it I wouldn't. Tell me
what store she's working in. That's what I want to hear about her from
you, and nothing else."

Logan was not red in the face now. He had grown very pale. In truth,
he was frightened. But he was angry enough to hide his fear for the
present. He determined that Rolls should not get a word out of him.

"That's _all_ you want to hear, is it?" he mimicked. "If you know so
much about her, you can jolly well find out the rest for yourself or
keep off the grass. I don't intend---"

The sentence ended in an absurd gurgle, for the hand of Peter Rolls
was twisting his high collar. It was horribly uncomfortable and made
him feel ridiculous, because he was taller and bigger and older than
Rolls. He tried to hit Peter in the face with his fist, but suddenly
all strength went out of him. The hated face vanished behind a shower
of sparks.

"You're murdering--me!" he gasped. "I've--got--a weak heart."

Peter let go and flung him across the room. He tottered toward the
door. And his servant, who had been breathlessly listening outside,
opened it opportunely on the instant. Logan saw his chance, as Sims
meant him to do, half fell, half staggered out, and the door slammed
in Peter's face.

It took the latter no more than thirty seconds to wrench it open again
and drag Sims, who was holding desperately to the knob, into the
dining-room. "Don't hurt me, sir!" the man pleaded. "I only did my
duty."

"Hurt you!" repeated Rolls with a laugh. "Don't be afraid. Where's the
other coward?"

"If you are referring to Mr. Logan, sir," Sims replied politely, "he
is gone. If you look for him, I think you will find he has _quite_
gone. I had the front door open, all ready, in case it should be
needed."