His sunburned skin was black with the surge of blood in it, and his tobacco-stained teeth were exposed by the snarling lips. Jim shivered and involuntarily cowered. There was death in the man he looked at. Only the night before that black-faced man had killed another with his hands, and it had not hurt his sleep. And in his own heart Jim was aware of a sneaking guilt, of a train of thought that merited all that was threatened. Matt passed out, leaving him still shivering. Then a hatred twisted his own face, and he softly hurled savage curses at the door. He remembered the jewels, and hastened to the bed, feeling under the pillow for the bandanna bundle. He crushed it with his fingers to make certain that it still contained the diamonds. Assured that Matt had not carried them away, he looked toward the kerosene stove with a guilty start. Then he hurriedly lighted it, filled the coffee-pot at the sink, and put it over the flame. The coffee was boiling when Matt returned, and while the latter cut the bread and put a slice of butter on the table, Jim poured out the coffee. It was not until he sat down and had taken a few sips of the coffee, that Matt pulled out the morning paper from his pocket. “We was way off,” he said. “I told you I didn't dast figger out how fat it was. Look at that.” He pointed to the head-lines on the first page. “SWIFT NEMESIS ON BUJANNOFF'S TRACK,” they read. “MURDERED IN HIS SLEEP AFTER ROBBING HIS PARTNER.” “There you have it!” Matt cried. “He robbed his partner--robbed him like a dirty thief.” “Half a million of jewels missin',” Jim read aloud. He put the paper down and stared at Matt. “That's what I told you,” the latter said. “What in hell do we know about jools? Half a million!--an' the best I could figger it was a hundred thousan'. Go on an' read the rest of it.” They read on silently, their heads side by side, the untouched coffee growing cold; and ever and anon one or the other burst forth with some salient printed fact. “I'd like to seen Metzner's face when he opened the safe at the store this mornin',” Jim gloated. “He hit the high places right away for Bujannoff's house,” Matt explained. “Go on an' read.” “Was to have sailed last night at ten on the Sajoda for the South Seas--steamship delayed by extra freight--” “That's why we caught 'm in bed,” Matt interrupted. “It was just luck--like pickin' a fifty-to-one winner.” “Sajoda sailed at six this mornin'--” “He didn't catch her,” Matt said. “I saw his alarm-clock was set at five. That'd given 'm plenty of time... only I come along an' put the kibosh on his time. Go on.” “Adolph Metzner in despair--the famous Haythorne pearl necklace--magnificently assorted pearls--valued by experts at from fifty to seventy thousan' dollars.” Jim broke off to swear vilely and solemnly, concluding with, “Those damn oyster-eggs worth all that money!” He licked his lips and added, “They was beauties an' no mistake.”