“What I said I'd do!” she answered. She was white-faced, frightened at her own act, fighting to maintain her nerve. “You'll go now, I imagine!” she flung at him passionately. “You haven't much time.” “No!” he said. His composure was instantly at command again. “No,” he repeated steadily; “not until after you have gone. I refuse--positively--to let you run any such risk as that. It is far too dangerous.” “Yes, you will!” she burst out wildly. “You will! You must! You shall! I--I--” The house itself seemed suddenly to have awakened. From above doors opened and closed. Indistinctly there came the sound of a voice. She clenched her hand in anguished desperation. “Go, you--you coward!” she whispered frantically. “Miss Gray, for God's sake, do as I tell you!” he said between his teeth. “You don't realize the danger. It's not the pursuit. They are not coming down here unarmed after that racket. I know that you came in by that door there. Go out that way. I will play the game for you. I swear it!” There were footsteps, plainly audible now, out in the main hall. “Quick!” he urged. “Are we both to be caught? See!” He backed suddenly toward the window. “See! I am too far away now to touch that necklace before they get here. Throw it down, and get behind the portiere of the rear door!” Mechanically she was retreating. They were almost at the other door now, those footsteps outside in the main hall. With a backward spring she reached the portiere. The door handle across the room rattled. She glanced at the Adventurer. He was close to the window. It was true, he could not get the necklace and at the same time hope to escape. She whipped it from her pocket, tossed it from her to the floor near the plush-lined case--and slipped behind the portiere. The door opposite to her was wrenched violently open. She could see through the corner of the portiere. There was a sharp, excited exclamation, as a gray-haired man, in pajamas, evidently Mr. Hayden-Bond himself, sprang into the room. He was followed by another man in equal dishabille. And the Adventurer was leaping for the window. There was a blinding flash, the roar of a report, as the millionaire flung up a revolver and fired; it was echoed by the splatter and tinkle of falling glass. The Adventurer was astride the window sill now, his face deliberately and unmistakably in view. “A foot too high, and a bit to the right!” said the Adventurer debonairly--and the window sill was empty.