o
utterly unusual disarmed him, as it must have disarmed any average man
similarly situated. For a moment his left fist clenched, his mind swung
in the balance, irresolute. The other turned back a loose page and
quietly resumed his perusal of the manuscript.

That decided Sheard's attitude, and he laughed.

Whereat the stranger again raised the protestant hand.

"We shall awake Mrs. Sheard!" he said solicitously. "And now, as I see
you have decided to give me a hearing, let me begin by offering you my
sincere apology for entering your house uninvited."

Sheard, his mind filled with a sense of phantasy, dropped into a chair
opposite the visitor, reached into the cabinet at his elbow, and
proffered a box of Turkish cigarettes.

"Your methods place you beyond the reach of ordinary castigation," he
said. "I don't know your name and I don't know your business; but I
honestly admire your stark impudence!"

"Very well," replied the other in his quiet, melodious voice, with its
faint, elusive accent. "A compliment is intended, and I thank you! And
now, I see you are wondering how I obtained admittance. Yet it is so
simple. Your front door is not bolted, and Mrs. Sheard, but a few days
since, had the misfortune to lose a key. You recollect? I found that
key! Is it enough?"

"Quite enough!" said Sheard grimly. "But why go to the trouble? What do
you want?"

"I want to insure that one, at least, of the influential dailies shall
not persistently misrepresent my actions!"

"Then who----" began Sheard, and got no farther; for the stranger handed
him a card--

SEVERAC BABLON

"You see," continued the man already notorious in two continents, "your
paper, here, is inaccurate in several important particulars! Your
premises are incorrect, and your inferences consequently wrong!"

Sheard stared at him, silent, astounded.

"I have been described in the Press of England and America as an
incendiary, because I burned the Runek Mills; as a maniac, because I
compensated men cruelly thrown out of employment; as a thief, because I
took from the rich in Park Lane and gave to the poor on the Embankment.
I say that this is unjust!"

His eyes gleamed into a sudden blaze. The delicate, white hand that held
Sheard's manuscript gripped it so harshly that the paper was crushed
into a ball. That Severac Bablon was mad seemed an unavoidable
conclusion; that he was forceful, dominant, a power to be counted with,
was a truth legible i