smile every trace vanished.

He swung his revolver up, and Dunn saw the crooked forefinger quiver
as though in the very act of pressing the trigger.

The pressure of a hair decided, indeed, whether the weapon was to
fire or not, as in a high-pitched, stammering voice, Deede Dawson
gasped:

"What--what do you mean? What do you mean by that?"

"I only told you my name," Dunn answered. "What's wrong with it?"

Doubtful and afraid, Deede Dawson stood hesitant. His forehead had
become very damp, and he wiped it with a nervous gesture.

"Is that your name--your real name?" he muttered.

"Never had another that I know of," Dunn answered.

Deede Dawson sat down again on the chair. He was still plainly
very disturbed and shaken, and Ella seemed scarcely less agitated,
though Dunn, watching them both very keenly, noticed that she was
now looking at Deede Dawson with a somewhat strange expression and
with an air as though his extreme excitement puzzled her and made
her--afraid.

"Nothing wrong with the name, is there?" Dunn muttered again.

"No, no," Deede Dawson answered. "No. It's merely a coincidence,