"If your lordship will glance at it?" said Mr. Gillett, proffering the
sheet.

The nobleman did so; his face changed; his eyes seemed unable to leave
the paper. Suddenly he gave a smothered explanation; tore the sheet
once, and started up, took a step toward the fire.

"Stop!" The voice was John Steele's; he stood now next to the
partly-opened drawer, in his hand that which had been concealed there,
something bright, shining. Lord Ronsdale wheeled, looked at the weapon
and into the eyes behind it. "Place those two bits of paper there--on
the edge of the desk!"

* * * * *




CHAPTER XXI

A CONDITION


Lord Ronsdale hesitated; his thin jaws were set so that the bones of the
cheek showed; his eyes gleamed. When he did move it was as if blindly,
precipitately, to carry out his first impulse.

"I wouldn't!" What John Steele held vaguely included, in the radius of
its possibilities, Mr. Gillett. "Unless--"