Years before, when he was working in a penal settlement, Ambrose Sault had bruised and cut his chin. He had been working in tapioca fields, and the prison doctor had warned him not to touch the healing wound with his hand for fear of poisoning it. From this warning he had acquired a curious trick. In moments of doubt he rubbed his chin with the knuckle of a finger. Christina had often seen him do this and had found in the gesture sure evidence of his perplexity. "You can't advise me?" she said, reading the sign, "I didn't think you would be able to." "I can go to Morelle and warn him," suggested Sault, "but that means trouble--here. I don't want to make mischief." She nodded. "Evie would never forgive us," she said with a sigh. "I'm ready, Ambrose." He stooped and lifted her from the bed, as though, as she once described it, she were of no greater weight than a pillow. * * * * * Mr. Jan Steppe was dressing for dinner when Sault was announced. "Tell him to wait--no, send him up." "Here, sir?" asked the valet. "Where else, you fool, huh?" Sault came into the dressing-room and waited until his employer had fixed a refractory collar. "Don't wait, you." The valet retired discreetly. "Well, Sault, what do you want?" "The daughter of the woman I lodge with knows Morelle," said Ambrose Sault briefly. "She's a pretty child and I don't want anything to happen to her that will necessitate my taking Morelle and breaking his neck." Steppe looked round with a scowl. "'Necessitate'? You talk like a damned professor. I'm not Morelle's keeper. It is enough trouble to keep him up to the scratch in other matters. As to breaking his neck, I've got something to say to that, Sault, huh?" He faced the visitor, a terrifying figure, his attitude a threat and a challenge. "You might have to identify him," said Sault thoughtfully, "that is true." Steppe's face went red. "Now see here, Sault. I've never had a fight with you and I don't want to, huh? You're the only one of the bunch that is worth ten cents as a man, but I'll allow nobody to dictate to me--nobody, whether he is a girl-chasing dude or an escaped convict. Get that right! I've smashed bigger men and stronger men than you, by God!" "You'll not smash me," said Sault coolly, "and you needn't smash Morelle. I'm telling you that I won't have that girl hurt. A word from you will send Morelle crawling at her feet. I don't know him, but I know of him. He's that kind." Steppe glared. "You're telling me, are you?" he breathed. "You think you've got me because you're indispensable now that you know about the safe. But I'll have another safe and another word. D'ye hear? I'll show you that no damned lag can bully me!"