“Twenty times,” broke in Allyne, pushing Fair back into a seat. “We would risk twenty lives for you, old man; but if you have really rid the world of that unhung dog, why in the name of Mrs. Fair and the children, to say nothing of us and common sense, don’t you get away until we can get your defense in order? Forgive my fool tongue, old man, for, of course, I could not believe that this was anything but some new sort of game. Did the blackguard attack you? Don’t let the ugly business get on your nerves too much to let you see that this is no murder at all.” “Yes,” put in Travers eagerly, groping through the dark to catch at any straw of hope or light. “And for God’s sake leave the country until your solicitor can prepare your case. Come, now, explain.” “It’s a simple story,” began Fair more calmly now that he had got them to accept the situation. “The fool came here to extort blackmail—and I killed him. Mrs. Fair saw me, and, Travers, you saw my pistol, you remember—still warm and with one chamber discharged. The servants heard the shot. The man’s body is still in the house, and nothing remains but to give myself up to the police. Lopez knows the history of my relations with his friend, and he will be only too glad to testify that I had threatened to kill Mendes, against whom I had a long-standing grudge. The case against me is complete, you see, so I prefer to end it all by surrendering myself at once.” “Not if we can stop you,” shouted Travers fiercely. “And as for the pistol—unless you go regularly off your head and tell them that I saw it, they will never know it. And, of course, you know, your wife’s testimony would not be taken against you, even if she should wish to give it.” “But she is not my wife,” groaned Fair, looking up at him. “What!” thundered Travers, significantly glancing at Allyne, who wheeled around to Fair and exclaimed: “Cæsar’s ghost! Look here, Fair, you are rubbing it in rather too deep, you know.” “Oh, it will be a pretty story when it is told in the papers,” muttered Fair, his hands thrust deep in his pockets and his legs stretched out in front of him. “Perhaps it will,” replied Travers, rising and going toward the door with his hat on, “but I don’t propose to hear you tell it. My God, man, you can’t expect us to hear it and then stand up and swear away your life! You’re mad. My duty is clear. Good night. Allyne, ring me up at the club in an hour. This is—” He did not finish the sentence, but hurried to the door, which he had reached when Fair spoke. “All right, old man,” he said, without turning to Travers, “if you choose to desert. I have faced tight places before. I’m game now.”