A low-sized man, with grizzled hair and mutton-chop whiskers and blue spectacles, dressed in seedy black, and looking like a schoolmaster broken in health and purse, stood in the doorway. Timmons stared at the man in amazement first, anger next, and lastly rage. "Well?" he bellowed fiercely; "who are you? What do you want?" The man did not speak. He coolly stepped over the bar of the wicket and stood close to Timmons in the dimly-lighted store. The dealer was staggered. Was this a policeman come to arrest him? If he was, and if he had come alone, so much the worse for him! Timmons put his hand on the man's shoulder, drew the man quickly clear of the wicket, shut the door and locked it. Then turning menacingly on the intruder, who had taken a couple of paces into the store, he said ferociously, "Now, sir! What is it?" Quick as lightning the man drew a revolver from his waist-band under his coat and presented it at Timmons's head. The latter fell back against the shutters with an oath and a shout of dismay. Swift as thought the man dropped the weapon and thrust it back into its place in his waist-band under his coat, saying as he did so: "You always said you should know me if I was boiled. What do you say now?" "Stamer!" yelled Timmons, with another oath. The other laughed. "And not even boiled either." "By ----, I'll have it out of you for this trick yet," said Timmons in a whisper. "What a fright you gave me! and what a shout I made! Someone may have heard me. You should not play such tricks as that, Stamer. It's no joke. I thought you were a copper." And he began walking up and down rapidly to calm himself. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Timmons," said the man, humbly and with an apologetic cough, "but I think your nerves want looking after." "You scoundrel!" "They do indeed, sir; you ought to get your doctor to put them right." "You cursed blackguard!" hissed Timmons as he strode up and down the dark store, wiping the sweat off his streaked forehead with the ball of his hand. "In an anxious business like ours, sir, a man can't be too careful. That's my reason again' the drink. Attendin' them temperance meetin's has done me a deal of good. I never get flustered now, Mr. Timmons, since I gave up the drink. I know, sir, you're next door to a teetotaller. It may be too much studyin', sir, with you. I have heard, sir, that too much studyin' on the brain and such like is worse than gin. If you could get away to the sea-side for a bit, sir, I'm certain 'twould do you a deal of good. You know I speak for your good, Mr. Timmons." "You fool, hold your tongue! First I took you for a policeman----" "I haven't come to that yet, sir," said the man in a tone of injury, and raising his shoulders to his ears as if to protect them from the pollution of hearing the word. "And then I took you for a thief."