eat
itself."

The woman made a sudden hissing sound, of breath drawn shortly between
closed teeth. "I hope not!" she sighed.

Lanyard opened his eyes wide at her. "You hope not, Liane?"

"I hope this time history will not altogether repeat itself. You see,
my friend, I think I know what is in your mind, memories of old
times...."

"True: I am thinking of those days when the Pack hunted the Lone Wolf
in Paris, ran him to earth at last, and made him much the same offer as
you have made to-night.... The Pack, you should know, messieurs, was
the name assumed by an association of Parisian criminals, ambitious
like you, who had grown envious of the Lone Wolf's success, and wished
to persuade him to run with them."

"And what happened?" Phinuit enquired.

"Why it so happened that they chose the time when I had made up my mind
to be good for the rest of my days. It was all most unfortunate."

"What answer did you give them, then?"

"As memory serves, I told them they could all go plumb to hell."

"So I hope history will not repeat, this time," Liane interjected.

"And did they go?" Monk asked.

"Presently, some of them, ultimately all; for some lingered a few years
in French prisons, like that great Popinot, the father of monsieur who
has caused us so much trouble."

"And you----?"

"Why," Lanyard laughed, "I have managed to keep out of jail, so I
presume I must have kept my vow to be good."

"And no backsliding?" Phinuit suggested with a leer.

"Ah! you must not ask me to tell you everything. That is a matter
between me and my conscience."

"Well," Phinuit hazarded with a good show of confidence, "I guess you
won't tell us to go plumb to hell, will you?"

"No; I promise to be more original than that."

"Then you refuse!" Liane breathed tensely.

"Oh, I haven't said that! You must give me time to think this over."

"I knew that would be his answer," Monk proclaimed, pride in his
perspicuity shaping the set of his eyebrows. "That is why I was firm
that we should wait no longer. You have four days in which to make up
your mind, monsieur."

"I shall need them."

"I don't see why," Phinuit argued: "it's an open and shut proposition,
if ever there was one."

"But you are asking me to renounce something upon which I have set much
store for many years, monsieur. I can't be expected to do that in an
hour or even a day."

You shall have your answer, I promise you, by the time we make our
landfall--perhap