stol in the hands of a woman. He banks on the theory that so
long as she thinks she is aiming in his direction, he is moderately
secure from harm. It is when she is pointing at some other object fear
arises as to his safety and well being.

In this particular instance, however, there was an unusually
threatening quality in the demeanour of Jane. She trained her gun like
any artilleryman and in a manner not lightly to be dismissed by the
casual process of a rush. Added to which the position in which these
adventurers found themselves--a compact mass in a single doorway--did
not offer good opportunities for acts of individual or concerted
heroism. They formed, as it were, a unified target, the bull's-eye of
which was the centre of Alfred Bolt's immense corporation. To suppose
that any marksman, however indifferent, could fail to register a hit
upon so broad an invitation was to betray unreason.

Dirk who had had previous experience in similar situations remarked
with melancholy that the steely eyed Amazon who commanded their
destinies kept carefully out of reach of his foot. This was a pity
since he was contemplating trying the effect of kicking her on the
knee-cap, a proceeding which if performed adroitly is often fruitful of
happy results. Bolt, too, knew a very effective means of ramming his
head into the solar plexus of an adversary, but this again was a form
of attack dependent on proximity.

It was Harrison Smith's able staff work that won the day. An old
enough trick, heaven knows, but one that generally works. He waited
till her eyes were upon him, then shifted the direction of his gaze to
a point somewhere behind Jane's back and nodded very quickly.

She is hardly to be blamed for having swung round, but in the second
before she had recovered her wits and realised the bluff, the pistol
had been snatched away and the three men were pouring through the
French windows into the garden.

It was Mrs. Barraclough who caught her by the arm and prevented her
from following.

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Jane. "I've failed, failed."

"Nonsense, my dear," said the old lady. "You girls have been just
wonderful." She pointed to an horizon of trees a mile away, where a
cloud of dust showed against the shadows. "Look what a lovely start he
has. My Anthony would never let himself be caught by a pack of
such--such----" She hesitated for lack of a word and added "Dirty
dogs" with astonishing vehemence.

"But what