Billie uttered a cry of horror. “He tried to shoot Miss Milliken!” “He _did_ shoot her—the third time,” said Sam, warming to his work. “Only in the arm, fortunately,” he added. “But my father is rather a stern disciplinarian and he had to go. I mean, we couldn’t keep him after that.” “Good gracious!” “She used to be my father’s stenographer, and she was thrown a good deal with Peters. It was quite natural that he should fall in love with her. She was a beautiful girl, with rather your own shade of hair. Peters is a man of volcanic passions, and, when, after she had given him to understand that his love was returned, she informed him one day that she was engaged to a fellow at Ealing West, he went right off his onion—I mean, he became completely distraught. I must say that he concealed it very effectively at first. We had no inkling of his condition till he came in with the pistol. And, after that ... well, as I say, we had to dismiss him. A great pity, for he was a good clerk. Still, it wouldn’t do. It wasn’t only that he tried to shoot Miss Milliken. The thing became an obsession with him, and we found that he had a fixed idea that every red-haired woman who came into the office was the girl who had deceived him. You can see how awkward that made it. Red hair is so fashionable now-a-days.” “My hair is red!” whispered Billie pallidly. “Yes, I noticed it myself. I told you it was much the same shade as Miss Milliken’s. It’s rather fortunate that I happened to be here with you when he came.” “But he may be lurking out there still!” “I expect he is,” said Sam carelessly. “Yes, I suppose he is. Would you like me to go and send him away? All right.” “But—but is it safe?” Sam uttered a light laugh. “I don’t mind taking a risk or two for your sake,” he said, and sauntered from the room, closing the door behind him. Billie followed him with worshipping eyes. Jno. Peters rose politely from the chair in which he had seated himself for the more comfortable perusal of the copy of _Home Whispers_ which he had brought with him to refresh his mind in the event of the firm being too busy to see him immediately. He was particularly interested in the series of chats with Young Mothers. “Hullo, Peters,” said Sam. “Want anything?” “Very sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Samuel. I just looked in to say good-bye. I sail on Saturday, and my time will be pretty fully taken up all the week. I have to go down to the country to get some final instructions from the client whose important papers I am taking over. I’m sorry to have missed your father, Mr. Samuel.” “Yes, this is his golf day. I’ll tell him you looked in.” “Is there anything I can do before I go?” “Do?” “Well—”—Jno. Peters coughed tactfully—“I see that you are engaged with a client, Mr. Samuel, and I was wondering if any little point of law had arisen with which you did not feel yourself quite capable of coping, in which case I might perhaps be of assistance.”