“Don’t be a fool, or take me for one, unless you are ready to quit. Do as I tell you, and be quick about it.” There was murder in Harding’s eyes what time he was measuring his chance against the weapon in Brant’s pocket. Then fear took its place, and he obeyed the command. “All right,” said the boy, without taking his eyes from the spinning roulette ball. “I’ll wait here for you.” Brant marched his man to the swing doors and out into the deserted street. Just beyond the circle illuminated by the arc light in front of Draco’s he backed Harding to the wall. “Hands up!” he said briefly. Harding’s thin lip quivered like that of a snarling dog, but again he obeyed. “Turned hold-up, have you, George?” he sneered. Brant ignored the taunt and deftly disarmed his captive. Then he spoke tersely and to the point, as one who may enforce his commands. “You know me, and there is no need to measure words. I brought you out here to tell you what you are to do. You are going to take that boy home and turn him loose; and then you are going to keep out of his way.” “Oh, I am, am I?” “Yes; and this is the way you are going to do it: You will go back in there and bring him out; then you will walk him up the street and put him into the first carriage you come to. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” “Sure thing! You’ve got it all down to a fine point, haven’t you?” “Then you will get in with him and go wherever the driver takes you. By the time the carriage stops you will have explained matters in any way you see fit; only young Langford must be given to understand that it is all off between you.” “And after that?” “After that I think it will be best for you to leave Denver. It is a fair-sized town, but I am afraid it isn’t big enough to hold you and me at the same time.” “And what if I refuse? What if I tell you to go to----” Brant took out the borrowed pistol and balanced it on the palm of his hand. “In that case I shall be obliged to make sure of you here and now; and remembering what you are, I’d about as soon do it as not.” The man at bay fought the fear back out of the telltale eyes and tried to laugh hardily. “You are a pretty smooth talker, George, but you can’t bluff me. I don’t know just what you are driving at, but I do happen to know that you don’t care to get your name in the papers just now. All the same, I’m willing to oblige you--for a consideration.” “How much?” asked Brant, still balancing the weapon. “A hundred, say, in money, and that little package of papers you took the trouble to have sworn out against me up in Taggett’s Gulch.” Brant considered it for a moment, and the man at bay began to have a dim premonition that he had gone too far; that his life hung in the balance while he waited. The terror of it grew with the lagging seconds, and he had opened his mouth to withdraw the condition when Brant spoke again: