o bet, my
friend."

Again the tramp of feet in the hall. There was something unmistakable
about the sound, something final and terrifying. Bernadine saw his
triumph slipping away. Once more this man, who had defied him so
persistently, was to taste the sweets of victory. With a roar of fury he
sprang across the room. He fired his revolver twice before Sogrange,
with a terrible blow, knocked his arm upwards and sent the weapon
spinning to the ceiling. Peter struck his assailant in the mouth, but
the blow seemed scarcely to check him. They rolled on the floor
together, their arms around one another's necks. It was an affair, that,
but of a moment. Peter, as lithe as a cat, was on his feet again almost
at once, with a torn collar and an ugly mark on his face. There were
strangers in the room now, and the servants had mostly slipped away
during the confusion. It was Sir John Dory himself who locked the door.
Bernadine struggled slowly to his feet. He was face to face with half a
dozen police-constables in plain clothes.

"You have a charge against this man, Baron?" the police commissioner
asked.

Peter shook his head.

"The quarrel between us," he replied, "is not for the police courts,
although I will confess, Sir John, that your intervention was
opportune."

"I, on the other hand," Sogrange put in, "demand the arrest of the Count
von Hern and the seizure of all papers in this house. I am the bearer of
an autograph letter from the President of France in connection with this
matter. The Count von Hern has committed extraditable offences against
my country. I am prepared to swear an information to that effect."

The police commissioner turned to Peter.

"Your friend's name?" he demanded.

"The Marquis de Sogrange," Peter told him.

"He is a person of authority?"

"To my certain knowledge," Peter replied, "he has the implicit
confidence of the French Government."

Sir John Dory made a sign. In another moment Bernadine would have been
arrested. It seemed, indeed, as though nothing could save him now from
this crowning humiliation. He himself, white and furious, was at a loss
how to deal with an unexpected situation. Suddenly a thing happened
stranger than any one of them there had ever known or dreamed of, so
strange that even men such as Peter, Sogrange and Dory, whose nerves
were of iron, faced one another, doubting and amazed. The floor beneath
them rocked and billowed like the waves of a canvas sea. The wind