The two eyed each other steadily. And in his heart Braine sighed. For he saw in this young man's eyes incorruptibility. "It is yours on one condition," said Braine, reaching out his foot stealthily toward the button which would summon Samson. "And that is," interpolated Norton, "that I join the Black Hundred." "Or the great beyond, my lad," took up Braine, his voice crisp and cold. Norton could not repress a shiver. Where had he heard this voice before? ... Braine! He stiffened. "Murder in cold blood?" he managed to say. "Indefinite imprisonment. Choose." "I have chosen." "H'm!" Braine rose and went over to the sideboard for the brandy. "I'm going to offer you a drink to show you that personally there are no hard feelings. You are in the way. After you, our friend, Jones. This brandy is not poisoned, neither are the glasses. Choose either and I'll drink first. We are all desperate men, Norton; and we stop at nothing. Your life hangs by a hair. Do you know where Hargreave is?" Norton eyed his liquor thoughtfully. "Do you know where the money is?" Norton smelt of the brandy. "I am sorry," said Braine. "I should have liked to win over a head like yours." Norton nonchalantly took out his watch, and that bit of bravado perhaps saved his life. In the case of his watch he saw a brutal face behind him. Without a tremor, Norton took up his glass. "I am sorry to disappoint you," he said, "but I shall neither join you nor go to by-by." Quick as a bird shadow above grass, he flung his brandy over his shoulder into the face of the man behind. Samson yelled with pain. Almost at the same instant Norton pushed over the table, upsetting Braine with it. Next he dashed through the curtains, slammed the door, and fled to the street, very shaky about the knees, if the truth is to be told. General Henderson's views upon the latest Balkan muddle were missing from the _Blade_ the following morning. Norton, instead of returning to the general's and fulfilling his assignment like a dutiful reporter, hurried out to Riverside to acquaint Jones with what had happened. Jones was glad to see him safe and sound. "That new reporter started the game," he said. "I overheard a word or two while he was talking in the booth. All your telephone booths are ramshackle affairs, you use them so constantly. I tried to find you, but you were out of sight. Now, tell me what happened." "Sh!" warned Norton as he spied Florence coming down the stairs. "I thought you couldn't come!" she cried. "But ten o'clock!" "I changed my mind," he replied, laughing. He caught her arm in his and drew her toward the library. Jones smiled after them with that enigmatical smile of his, which might have signified irony or affection. After half an hour's chat, Florence, quite unaware that the two men wished to talk, retired. At the door Norton told Jones what had taken place at 49 Elm Street.