“It means,” I answered boldly, “that you’ve got to pay up. And you’ve got to pay up now!” In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his jacket pockets. His face was red with anger. “You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,”—he spat the words at me in a low, threatening voice,—“I guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting at some of my people!” His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion. “You rotten little worm! You’d try and bounce me, would you? You’ve come to the wrong shop for that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ...” His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the utter contempt with which he looked at me. This man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered his self-control on finding that the menace came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all self-control. I screamed aloud at him. “There’s no bounce about it this time! If you don’t pay up, you know what to expect!” I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and levelled it at him. He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper. But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the gardens. How he missed me at that range I don’t know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me again with the pistol in his hand ... And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, “Hartley,” and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my hand ... It was your scream that brought me to my senses. My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly. The house would be alarmed directly, and before that happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I knew that before I went I must do something to make myself safe ... I stood at the window staring down at the dead man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked, I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that only one shot had been heard and that our pistols were identical and fired the same ammunition. The silencer! The silencer could save me. With that removed, the suicide theory might pass muster: at any rate, it would delay other investigations and give me a start ...