“You think,” he continued, making an attempt to imitate Westerham's cool, off-hand way of speech, “that this is a working-man's club. “Well, it is not exactly that. It is a club, sure enough, with pretty fixed rules—rules which, if broken, may result in a man's light being put out. “The same may be said of anyone who offends us. You have offended us. “Now, though Melun comes in through ‘The Cut,’ we come in the other way. No one in London except the members of this club know that there are two entrances. We come in by the main door, and that gives on to a path which runs by a handy canal. “Shooting is noisy, and knives mean messy work. Strangling is just as simple and just as easy, and, with the clothes off you, and with a good lead weight on your feet, there'd not be much chance of your disappearance ever being traced to this place.” He stared at Westerham with a fixed beast-like glare. Westerham, however, with his hands still folded placidly on the table, was smiling blandly. “Allow me,” he said, seeing that Crow had made an end of speaking, “to congratulate you on a very pretty little programme—but a programme which, I fear, is hardly likely to be carried out to-night.” “Str'wth,” cried a man, craning across the table towards Westerham, “are you a copper's nark? Have you put the police on us?” Half a dozen men rose from their seats and looked with scared faces at Crow. Crow, somewhat to Westerham's admiration, kept his head. “See to the door,” he said. Two other men rose, and going to Westerham's side of the long room, opened the door leading into a little porch; through this they went out on to the footpath by the canal and peered cautiously up and down. Presently they came back shaking their heads. “Have another look,” said Crow. “Search a little further.” The two men went out again, and in the complete silence which now prevailed their footsteps could be heard through the open door pacing up and down the path. Returning, they reported that everything was quiet. “Very well,” said Crow, “but, all the same, you had better get to your posts.” The two men went out once more and closed the door after them. “Bluff!” said Crow, insolently, to Westerham, “just bluff. But you cannot come bluff on us, for all your Yankee smartness.” “No,” said Westerham; and his face was still the face of a man who is immensely amused and interested. “What are you grinning at?” snarled Crow. “I was grinning because, whatever you may contrive to do to me, it struck me as being rather funny that one man in a place like this should manage to scare so many.” Crow's hand gripped the handle of his revolver. “That will do,” said Westerham, growing suddenly serious, for he realised that while the men were posted at either end of the canal-path there was just a chance that Crow might risk the noise of firearms.