"Exactly." "Then," said Hamilton, "I'll see you in hell first. It's no business of yours, I say." "But it is," said Monte. "Tell me how it is," growled Hamilton. "Why, you see," said Monte quietly, "Miss Stockton and I are engaged." "You lie!" choked Hamilton. "You--" Monte heard a deafening report, and felt a biting pain in his shoulder. As he staggered back he saw a pistol smoking in Hamilton's hand. Recovering, he threw himself forward on the man and bore him to the floor. It was no very difficult matter for Monte to wrest the revolver from Hamilton's weak fingers, even with one arm hanging limp; but it was quite a different proposition to quiet Madame Courcy and Marie, who were screaming hysterically in the hall. Marjory, to be sure, was splendid; but even she could do little with madame, who insisted that some one had been murdered, even when it was quite obvious, with both men alive, that this was a mistake. To make matters worse, she had called up the police on the telephone, and at least a dozen gendarmes were now on their way. The pain in Monte's arm was acute, and it hung from his shoulder as limply as an empty sleeve; but, fortunately, it was not bleeding a great deal,--or at least it was not messing things up,--and he was able, therefore, by always keeping his good arm toward the ladies, to conceal from them this disagreeable consequence of Hamilton's rashness. Hamilton himself had staggered to his feet, and, leaning against the wall, was staring blankly at the confusion about him. Monte turned to Marjory. "Hurry out and get a taxi," he said. "We can't allow the man to be arrested." "He tried to shoot--himself?" she asked. "I don't believe he knows what he tried to do. Hurry, please." As she went out, he turned to Marie. "Help madame into her room," he ordered. Madame did not want to go; but Monte impatiently grasped one arm and Marie the other, so madame went. Then he came back to Hamilton. "Madame has sent for the police. Do you understand?" "Yes," Hamilton answered dully. "And I have sent for a taxi. It depends on which gets here first whether you go to jail or not," said Monte. Then he sat down in a chair, because his knees were beginning to feel weak. Marjory was back in a minute, and when she came in Monte was on his feet again. "It's at the door," she said. At the sound of her voice Hamilton seemed to revive; but Monte had him instantly by the arm. "Come on," he ordered. He shoved the boy ahead a little as he passed Marjory, and turning, drew the revolver from his pocket. He did not dare take it with him, because he knew that in five minutes he would be unable to use it. Hamilton, on the other hand, might not be. He shoved it into her hand. "Take it upstairs and hide it," he said. "Be careful with it." "You're coming back here?" she asked quickly. She thought his cheeks were very white. "I can't tell," he answered. "But--don't worry."