My acquaintance with the world has been fairly varied, but this was a situation right out of my previous line. Indeed, the problem of how to act for the best when shut up alone at midnight with a young lady who has just attempted to assassinate you is one of sufficient delicacy to baffle the most experienced. I decided that the first step was to bring her back to consciousness. Putting some brandy into a glass, I carefully lifted her up and poured a few drops between her tightly-shut teeth. The strong spirit had an almost immediate effect. A faint tinge of colour stole into her face, and with a deep sigh she opened her eyes. When she saw that I was holding her, she shuddered violently, and shrank back against the arm of the couch. It was not exactly complimentary, but I decided to overlook it. "I hope you're feeling better?" I said, with an encouraging smile. Her answer was a glance of such intense hatred and contempt that I instinctively got up from the sofa. "Well," she said, "why don't you ring the bell, and hand me over to the police?" She spoke in low, passionate tones and with a very slight foreign accent, but her voice was delicious. It was one of those deep, sorrowful contraltos that seem pathetic with all the woe of the world. I looked back steadily into her indignant eyes. "I object to the police on principle," I said. "Besides, I really don't see what they have to do with the matter. You have only smashed a desk, after all." Before she could make any reply there came a sudden sound of footsteps on the landing outside, followed a moment later by a discreet knock at the door. "Who's that?" I called out. The somewhat apologetic voice of Milford answered me through the panels. "It's only me, sir. I fancied I heard something drop in your room, and came to see if I could be of any assistance." For a second I hesitated, and then, walking to the door, I opened it just wide enough to prevent him from seeing in. "It's nothing, thanks, Milford," I said. "I was cleaning an air pistol, and the thing went off and smashed the woodwork of the desk. We'll have a look at it in the morning. By the way, did anyone call for me while I was out?" He shook his head. "No, sir." "Well, I may run out and post a letter before I turn in," I added; "so, if you hear anyone walking about, don't imagine it's a burglar. Good-night." "Good-night, sir." I closed the door, and listened to the footsteps of my faithful retainer dying away in the distance. Then I fastened the lock, and came back to my visitor. "Perhaps it would be as well," I said, "if you gave me back my latch-key before you forget." She had risen to her feet and stood facing me like some beautiful animal at bay. Her cloak had fallen back, betraying the graciously moulded lines of her figure, shown off to perfection by the closely-fitting black dress that she was wearing underneath.