Three or four men had risen in a corner and were slowly working their way
out, with back-thrown jests to those they were leaving. Following close on
Le Marchant's heels, I stepped aside to let them pass, and in doing so
bumped against the back of a burly man who was leaning over the table in
close confidential talk with one opposite him.

"Pardon!" I said, and, looking up, saw two grim eyes scowling at me,
through the smoke, out of the looking-glass in front.

I gave but one glance, and felt as if I had run my head against a wall or
had received a blow over the heart. For those fierce black eyes were full
of menace. They had leaped to mine as blade leaps to blade, touches
lightly, slides along, and holds your own with the compelling pressure that
presages assault. They were like thunderclouds charged with blasting
lightnings. They were full of understanding and dreadful intention, and all
this I saw in one single glance.

I gripped Le Marchant's jacket.

"Out quick!" I whispered, and turned and went.

"What--?" he began.

"Torode of Herm is there."

"The devil! Did he see you?"

"I think so. Yes, he looked at me through the looking-glass."

"No time to lose then!" and he sped down the yard, and through the slit of