“Of all these things I am fully aware, Mr. Ritzmann; but I thought I had explained that I had selected you to publish these compositions?” The other clutched the arms of his chair. “_Selected_ me?” “That was my expression. Had the music been worthless——” “It _is_ worthless! Piffle!” “Had the music been worthless I should not have offered it to you. But each of these nine items is a sound speculation. We shall require nine agreement-forms.” Ritzmann, staring, rose slowly to his feet. “Sit down, Mr. Ritzmann.” Ritzmann moistened his thick lips preparatory to comment. “Sit down, Mr. Ritzmann.” He sat down; and his fleshy hands were not quite steady; the diamonds danced and sparkled. He managed to achieve coherent speech: “This is a damn big bluff! But if you bluff from now——” “You have royalty-forms in your desk; we shall require nine.” Ritzmann got on his feet and plunged for the bell. He was hurled back with violence; and his eyes protruded unnaturally at sight of the pistol which pointed at his bald skull. “Nine forms, Mr. Ritzmann.” “You must—be mad. You—dare not——” “There you are in error. I would shoot you without compunction. If I failed to escape I should shoot myself. I have nothing to live for, and I should go to eternity with that one good deed to my credit. I will dictate the titles of the nine pieces and you will fill in the forms.” Ritzmann’s face grew ashy. He looked a stricken man. The bundle of forms shook and rustled like autumn leaves in a breeze. Unemotionally, O’Hagan read out the titles; shakily, all but illegibly, the publisher wrote them in. Form after form was filled updated and signed. Two, O’Hagan rejected as quite illegible. But at last he was satisfied, and pocketed the nine. “Ten guineas on account of each,” he said; “that will be a cheque for ninety-four pounds, ten shillings, payable to Miss Pamela Crichton.” Ritzmann’s face showed that he was contemplating rebellion. “I shall count ten, Mr. Ritzmann!” The cheque was drawn up and signed. O’Hagan carefully folded and placed it in his pocket-book. “Good day,” he said, and backed towards the door. He opened it and stepped out into the passage. He had not closed it ere with bell and husky voice Ritzmann was summoning assistance. O’Hagan handed me the pistol. He took out his cigarette-case and selected a cigarette. Before he had found his matchbox I was upstairs and inside Messrs. Harris and Harris’s office. It must have been at about the moment when I was stating my lack of a suitable parlourmaid, that three clerks, rushing out of the shop, intercepted the Captain, as, match in hand, he stood at the street-end of the passage. They would have seized him; but O’Hagan’s eyes can quell. “Your dirty hands off! The meaning of this outrage?” Trembling, grey-faced, Mr. Ritzmann joined the three clerks. A fourth, who had been detailed to that duty, returned from an adjacent corner with a constable. “Arrest that man! He has robbed me!”