and began to escalade the slope up to the road. Frank Harrogate
jumped up and ran across to help him, revolver in hand, but was astounded
to hear himself imperatively recalled by the raucous voice of his father,
who seemed to be in great agitation.

"I won't have it," said the banker in a choking voice;
"I command you not to interfere."

"But, father," said Frank very warmly, "an Italian gentleman has
led the way. You wouldn't have it said that the English hung back."

"It is useless," said the older man, who was trembling violently,
"it is useless. We must submit to our lot."

Father Brown looked at the banker; then he put his hand instinctively
as if on his heart, but really on the little bottle of poison;
and a great light came into his face like the light of the revelation
of death.

Muscari meanwhile, without waiting for support, had crested the bank
up to the road, and struck the brigand king heavily on the shoulder,
causing him to stagger and swing round. Montano also had
his cutlass unsheathed, and Muscari, without further speech,
sent a slash at his head which he was compelled to catch and parry.
But even as the two short blades crossed and clashed the King of Thieves
deliberately dropped his point and laughed.

"What's the good, old man?" he said in spirited Italian slang;
"this damned farce will soon be over."