Sam waved a hand towards him with the air of a lecturer making a point.
“You see! The man of action! He likes trouble. He asks for it. He eats it alive. Now I prefer peace. Why have a fuss when you can get what you want quietly? That’s my motto. That’s why we’ve come. It’s the old proposition. We’re here to buy you out. Yes, I know you have turned the offer down before, but things have changed. Your stock has fallen. In fact, instead of letting you in on sharing terms, we only feel justified now in offering a commission. For the moment you may seem to hold a strong position. You are in the house, and you’ve got the boy. But there’s nothing to it really. We could get him in five minutes if we cared to risk having a fuss. But it seems to me there’s no need of any fuss. We should win dead easy all right, if it came to trouble; but, on the other hand, you’ve a gun, and there’s a chance some of us might get hurt, so what’s the good when we can settle it quietly? How about it, sonny?”
Mr. MacGinnis began to rumble, preparatory to making further remarks on the situation, but Sam waved him down and turned his brown eyes inquiringly on me.
“Fifteen percent is our offer,” he said.
“And to think it was once fifty-fifty!”
“Strict business!”
“Business? It’s sweating!”
“It’s our limit. And it wasn’t easy to make Buck here agree to that. He kicked like a mule.”
Buck shuffled his feet and eyed me disagreeably. I suppose it is hard to think kindly of a man who has broken your leg. It was plain that, with Mr. MacGinnis, bygones were by no means bygones.
I rose.
“Well, I’m sorry you should have had the trouble of coming here for nothing. Let me see you out. Single file, please.”
Sam looked aggrieved.
“You turn it down?”
“I do.”
“One moment. Let’s have this thing clear. Do you realize what you’re up against? Don’t think it’s only Buck and me you’ve got to tackle. All the boys are here, waiting round the corner, the same gang that came the other night. Be sensible, sonny. You don’t stand a dog’s chance. I shouldn’t like to see you get hurt. And you never know what may not happen. The boys are pretty sore at you because of what you did that night. I shouldn’t act like a bonehead, sonny—honest.”
There was a kindly ring in his voice which rather touched me. Between him and me there had sprung up an odd sort of friendship. He meant business; but he would, I knew, be genuinely sorry if I came to harm. And I could see that he was quite sincere in his belief that I was in a tight corner and that my chances against the Combine were infinitesimal. I imagine that, with victory so apparently certain, he had had difficulty in persuading his allies to allow him to make his offer.
But he had overlooked one thing—the telephone. That he should have made this mistake surprised me. If it had been Buck, I could have understood it. Buck’s was a mind which lent itself to such blunders. From Sam I had expected better things, especially as the telephone had been so much in evidence of late. He had used it himself only half an hour ago.
I clung to the thought of the telephone. It gave me the quiet satisfaction of the gambler who holds the unforeseen ace. The situation was in my hands. The police, I knew, had been profoundly stirred by Mr. MacGinnis’s previous raid. When I called them up, as I proposed to do directly the door had closed on the ambassadors, there would be no lack of response. It would not again be a case of Inspector Bones and Constable Johnson to the rescue. A great cloud of willing helpers would swoop to our help.
With these thoughts in my mind, I answered Sam pleasantly but firmly.
“I’m sorry I’m unpopular, but all the same—”
I indicated the door.
Emotion that could only be expressed in words and not through his usual medium welled up in Mr. MacGinnis. He sprang forward with a snarl, falling back as my faithful automatic caught his eye.
“Say, you! Listen here! You’ll—”
Sam, the peaceable, plucked at his elbow.
“Nothing doing, Buck. Step lively.”
Buck wavered, then allowed himself to be drawn away. We passed out of the classroom in our order of entry.
An exclamation from the stairs made me look up. Audrey was leaning over the banisters. Her face was in the shadow, but I gathered from her voice that the sight of our little procession had startled her. I was not surprised. Buck was a distinctly startling spectacle, and his habit of growling to himself, as he walked, highly disturbing to strangers.
“Good evening, Mrs. Sheridan,” said Sam suavely.
Audrey did not speak. She seemed fascinated by Buck.
I opened the front door and they passed out. The automobile was still purring on the drive. Buck’s pistol had disappeared. I supposed the chauffeur had picked it up, a surmise which was proved correct a few moments later, when, just as the car was moving off, there was a sharp crack and a bullet struck the wall to the right of the door. It was a random shot, and I did not return it. Its effect on me was to send me into the hall with a leap that was almost a back-somersault. Somehow, though I was keyed up for violence and the shooting of pistols, I had not expected it at just that moment, and I was disagreeably surprised at the shock it had given me. I slammed the door and bolted it. I was intensely irritated to find that my fingers were trembling.
Audrey had left the stairs and was standing beside me.
“They shot at me,” I said.
By the light of the hall lamp I could see that she was
