right hand close by the revolver. Again he dipped, transferring to the paper a pinch of brown, flaky tobacco. Then he proceeded, both hands just over the revolver, to roll the cigarette.
'From the way you hover close to that nasty weapon, you seem to be afraid of me,' she challenged.
'Not exactly afraid of you, ma'am, but, under the circumstances, just a mite timid.'
'But I've not been afraid of you.'
'You've got nothing to lose.'
'My life,' she retorted.
'That's right,' he acknowledged promptly, 'and you ain't been scairt of me. Mebbe I am over anxious.'
'I wouldn't cause you any harm.'
Even as she spoke, her slipper felt for the bell and pressed it. At the same time her eyes were earnest with a plea of honesty.
'You are a judge of men. I know it. And of women. Surely, when I am trying to persuade you from a criminal life and to get you honest work to do….?'
He was immediately contrite.
'I sure beg your pardon, ma'am,' he said. 'I reckon my nervousness ain't complimentary.'
As he spoke, he drew his right hand from the table, and after lighting the cigarette, dropped it by his side.
'Thank you for your confidence,' she breathed softly, resolutely keeping her eyes from measuring the distance to the revolver, and keeping her foot pressed firmly on the bell.
'About that three hundred,' he began. 'I can telegraph it West to-night. And I'll agree to work a year for it and my keep.'
'You will earn more than that. I can promise seventy-five dollars a month at the least. Do you know horses?'
His face lighted up and his eyes sparkled.
'Then go to work for me—or for my father, rather, though I engage all the servants. I need a second coachman—'
'And wear a uniform?' he interrupted sharply, the sneer of the free-born West in his voice and on his lips.
She smiled tolerantly.
'Evidently that won't do. Let me think. Yes. Can you break and handle colts?'
He nodded.
'We have a stock farm, and there's room for just such a man as you. Will you take it?'
'Will I, ma'am?' His voice was rich with gratitude and enthusiasm. 'Show me to it. I'll dig right in to-morrow. And I can sure promise you one thing, ma'am. You'll never be sorry for lending Hughie Luke a hand in his trouble —'
'I thought you said to call you Dave,' she chided forgivingly.
'I did, ma'am. I did. And I sure beg your pardon. It was just plain bluff. My real name is Hughie Luke. And if you'll give me the address of that stock farm of yours, and the railroad fare, I head for it first thing in the morning.'
Throughout the conversation she had never relaxed her attempts on the bell. She had pressed it in every alarming way—three shorts and a long, two and a long, and five. She had tried long series of shorts, and, once, she had held the button down for a solid three minutes. And she had been divided between objurgation of the stupid, heavy-sleeping butler and doubt if the bell were in order.
'I am so glad,' she said; 'so glad that you are willing. There won't be much to arrange. But you will first have to trust me while I go upstairs for my purse.'
She saw the doubt flicker momentarily in his eyes, and added hastily, 'But you see I am trusting you with the three hundred dollars.'
'I believe you, ma'am,' he came back gallantly. 'Though I just can't help this nervousness.'
'Shall I go and get it?'
But before she could receive consent, a slight muffled jar from the distance came to her ear. She knew it for the swing-door of the butler's pantry. But so slight was it—more a faint vibration than a sound—that she would not have heard had not her ears been keyed and listening for it. Yet the man had heard. He was startled in his composed way.
'What was that?' he demanded.
For answer, her left hand flashed out to the revolver and brought it back. She had had the start of him, and she needed it, for the next instant his hand leaped up from his side, clutching emptiness where the revolver had been.
'Sit down!' she commanded sharply, in a voice new to him. 'Don't move. Keep your hands on the table.'
She had taken a lesson from him. Instead of holding the heavy weapon extended, the butt of it and her forearm rested on the table, the muzzle pointed, not at his head, but his chest. And he, looking coolly and obeying her commands, knew there was no chance of the kick-up of the recoil producing a miss. Also, he saw that the revolver did not wabble, nor the hand shake, and he was thoroughly conversant with the size of hole the soft-nosed bullets could make. He had eyes, not for her, but for the hammer, which had risen under the pressure of her forefinger on the trigger.
'I reckon I'd best warn you that that there trigger-pull is filed dreadful fine. Don't press too hard, or I'll have a hole in me the size of a walnut.'
She slacked the hammer partly down.
'That's better,' he commented. 'You'd best put it down all the way. You see how easy it works. If you want to, a quick light pull will jiffy her up and back and make a pretty mess all over your nice floor.'
A door opened behind him, and he heard somebody enter the room. But he did not turn his bead. He was looking at her, and he found it the face of another woman—hard, cold, pitiless yet brilliant in its beauty. The eyes, too, were hard, though blazing with a cold light.
'Thomas,' she commanded, 'go to the telephone and call the police. Why were you so long in answering?'
'I came as soon as I heard the bell, madam,' was the answer.
The robber never took his eyes from hers, nor did she from his, but at mention of the bell she noticed that his eyes were puzzled for the moment.
'Beg your pardon,' said the butler from behind, 'but wouldn't it be better for me to get a weapon and arouse the servants?'
'No; ring for the police. I can hold this man. Go and do it—quickly.'
The butler slippered out of the room, and the man and the woman sat on, gazing into each other's eyes. To her it was an experience keen with enjoyment, and in her mind was the gossip of her crowd, and she saw notes in the society weeklies of the beautiful young Mrs. Setliffe capturing an armed robber single-handed. It would create a sensation, she was sure.
'When you get that sentence you mentioned,' she said coldly, 'you will have time to meditate upon what a fool you have been, taking other persons' property and threatening women with revolvers. You will have time to learn your lesson thoroughly. Now tell the truth. You haven't any friend in trouble. All that you told me was lies.'
He did not reply. Though his eyes were upon her, they seemed blank. In truth, for the instant she was veiled to him, and what he saw was the wide sunwashed spaces of the West, where men and women were bigger than the rotten denizens, as he had encountered them, of the thrice rotten cities of the East.
'Go on. Why don't you speak? Why don't you lie some more? Why don't you beg to be let off?'
'I might,' he answered, licking his dry lips. 'I might ask to be let off if…'
'If what?' she demanded peremptorily, as he paused.
'I was trying to think of a word you reminded me of. As I was saying, I might if you was a decent woman.'
Her face paled.
'Be careful,' she warned.
