South America! It recalled him to his actual surroundings--that on the other side of the door were Crang's apaches. There was still time to catch the steamer, wasn't there--for South America? “If the bluff worked”--he remembered his thoughts, the plan that had actuated him when he had crouched there at the door, waiting for Crang to enter. Strange! It wouldn't be a _bluff_ any more! All that was gone. What he would do now, and carry it through to its end, was what he had intended to bluff Crang into believing he would do. And Crang, too, would understand now how little of bluff there was--or, misunderstanding, pay for it with his life. He thrust the ticket suddenly into his pocket, stepped from his chair, the revolver in his hand, and confronted Crang. The man shrank back, trembling, his face gray with fear. “Stand up!” John Bruce commanded. Crang, groveling against the wall, got upon his feet. It was a full minute before John Bruce spoke again, and then the words came choking hot from his lips. “You damned cur!” he cried. “That's what you did, was it? The price Claire paid was for my life. Well, it's hers, then; it's no longer mine. Can you understand that, and understand that I am going to pay it back, if necessary, to rid her of you? We are going to walk out of here. You will lead the way. We are going down to that steamer, and you are going on John Bruce's ticket where you proposed to send me--to South America. Either that--or you are going on a longer journey. I shall carry this revolver in the pocket of my coat, and walk beside you. It is your affair how we pass those men out there. If you make any attempt at trickery in getting out of here, or later in the street attempt to escape, I will fire instantly. It does not matter in the slightest degree what happens to me at the hands of your men, or at the hands of a thousand people in the most crowded street. You will have gone out _first_. The only consideration that exists is that Claire shall be free of you.” “Tck!” It was the quill toothpick flexing against one of Larmon's teeth. John Bruce turned. “I did not understand,” said Larmon in a low, grim way. “If I had, I am not sure I should have stopped you from throttling him when I did.” John Bruce nodded curtly. He spoke again to Crang. “I am not asking you whether you agree to this or not,” he said with level emphasis. “You have your choice at any moment to do as you like--you know the consequences.” He slipped his hand with his revolver into the right-hand side pocket of his coat, and took his place at Crang's left side. “Now, go ahead and open that door, and lead the way out! Mr. Larmon, you follow close behind me.” “Yes,” Crang stammered, “yes--for God's sake--I--I'll do it--I---” “Open that door!” said John Bruce monotonously. “I didn't ask you to talk about it!”