"In my country," he observed thickly, "you would die for this--both of you." Tony smiled at him indulgently. "I am sure we should," he said; "but that's the best of Hampstead; it's so devilish healthy." He paused. "Won't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?" he added. There was something so unexpected either about the request or else the manner of it, that for a moment the visitor seemed at a loss what to do. At length, however, he seated himself on the edge of the sofa, still glowering savagely at Tony with his working eye. It was at this point that his friend in the chair began to emerge into something like intelligent interest in the proceedings. After blinking vaguely and shaking his head once or twice, he suddenly raised himself in his seat, and looked round him with a slightly bewildered air. His gaze finally came to rest on the barrel of the Mauser pistol which happened at the moment to be pointing in his direction. [Illustration: His gaze finally came to rest on the barrel of the Mauser pistol. "Feeling better?" inquired Tony kindly. An obvious train of recollection flashed across the stranger's face. "I remember now," he muttered. "Something struck me--something on the stairs."] "Feeling better?" inquired Tony kindly. An obvious train of recollection flashed across the stranger's face, and with an instinctive movement he raised his hand to his jaw. "I remember now," he muttered. "Something struck me. Something on the stairs." "That's right," said Tony encouragingly. "It was Bugg's fist. Very few people can take a punch in the jaw from Bugg and remember the exact details." The stranger looked at Tony with some curiosity. He had a more refined and intelligent face than his companion, while from the few words he had spoken his foreign accent appeared to be less pronounced. "I presume," he said, "that I am addressing Sir Antony Conway?" Tony nodded. "You at least have the advantage of knowing whom you're talking to." There was a moment's pause, and then the man on the sofa laughed aggressively. "It is an advantage that you possibly share with us," he growled. Tony turned on him. "Except for the fact that you appear to belong to the criminal classes," he said, "I haven't the foggiest notion who either of you are." With what sounded distressingly like an oath the cross-eyed gentleman scrambled to his feet, but a slight change in the direction of the Mauser pulled him up abruptly. It was his friend who relieved the somewhat strained situation. "You forget, Colonel," he said suavely. "If Sir Antony Conway is not aware who we are, our conduct must certainly appear to be a trifle peculiar." He turned back to Tony. "If you would grant us the privilege of a few moments' private conversation I fancy we might come to a better understanding. It is possible that we are rather--how do you say--at cross purposes."