Dick closed the door and pointed to the table. "Lay your gun there. Be careful," as Whitley drew his revolver. Jim glanced once at the determined eyes and steady hand of his master and sullenly obeyed. "Now sit down." Crossing the room, he seated himself in the chair indicated, which placed him in the full glare of the light. Dick took the other chair facing him, with the long table between them. Placing his weapon beside the other, within easy reach of his hand, he rested his elbows on the table and looked long and steadily at the man before him. Whitley was uneasy. "Well," he said at last, when he could bear the silence no longer. "I hope you like my looks." "Your figure is somewhat heavier, but shaving off your beard has made you look some years younger," replied Dick, dryly. The other started to his feet. "Don't be uneasy," said Dick, softly resting his hand on one of the revolvers; "keep your seat please." "I never wore a beard," said the other, as he dropped back on his chair. "You are mistaken." "Then how did you know the meaning of my note, and why did you answer it in person. You should have sent the right man." Whitley saw that he had betrayed himself but made one more effort. "I came out of curiosity," he muttered. Dick laughed--a laugh that was not good to hear. "I can easily satisfy you," he said; "permit me to tell you a little story." "The story begins in a little manufacturing town a few miles from Liverpool, England, just three years ago today." Beneath the unwavering eyes of the man leaning on the table Whitley's face grew ghastly and he writhed in his chair. "An old man and his wife, with their two orphaned grand-sons, lived in a little cottage on the outskirts of the town. The older of the boys was a strong man of twenty; the other a sickly lad of eight. The old people earned a slender income by cultivating small fruits. This was helped out by the wages of the older brother, who was a machinist in one of the big factories. They were a quiet and unpretentious little family, devout Christians, and very much attached to each other. "One afternoon a wealthy American, who was stopping at a large resort a few miles from the village, went for a drive along the road leading past their home. As his carriage was passing, the little boy, who was playing just outside the yard, unintentionally frightened the horses and they shied quickly. At the same moment, the American's silk hat fell in the dust. The driver stopped the team and the lad, frightened, picked up the hat and ran with it toward the carriage, stammering an apology for what he had done. "Instead of accepting the boy's excuse, the man, beside himself with anger, and slightly under the influence of wine, sprang from the carriage, and seizing the lad, kicked him brutally.