The glib explanation died, in his amazement-contracting
throat. For, at his first word, the girl had checked her run
and had stood for an instant, gazing wideeyed at him. Then,
clapping one little hand to her side, she produced from
somewhere a flash of metal.

And Gavin Brice found himself blinking stupidly into the
muzzle of a small revolver, held, unwaveringly, not three feet
from his face. Behind the gun were a pair of steady gray eyes
and a face whose dainty outlines were just now set in a mask
of icy grimness.

"That isn't a bluff," ran his involuntary thoughts, as he read
the eyes behind the ridiculously tiny weapon. "She really
means to shoot!"




CHAPTER II

THE MAN IN THE DARK


For several seconds the two stood thus, the man dumfounded,
moveless, gaping, the girl as grimly resolute as Fate itself,
the little revolver steady, its muzzle unwaveringly menacing
Brice's face. The collie continued to gyrate, thunderously
around the tree.