panhandler or even a highwayman. It was an enemy whose motive
for wanting to murder you, silently and surely, was strong
enough to make him willing to risk death or capture. Now,
when you say you don't need a bodyguard--Well, it's your own
business, of course. Let it go at that, if you like."

Long and silently Milo Standish looked down at the nonchalant
invalid. Above, the sounds of women's steps and an occasional
snatch of a sentence could be heard. At last, Milo spoke.

"You are right," said he, very slowly, and as if measuring his
every word. "You are right. There are one or two men who
would like to get this land and this house and--and other
possessions of mine. There is no reason for going into
particulars that wouldn't interest you. Take my word. Those
reasons are potent. I have reason to suspect that the assault
on me, this evening, is concerned with their general plan to
get rid of me. Perhaps--perhaps you're right, about my need
of a bodyguard. Though it's a humiliating thing for a grown
man--especially a man of my size and strength--to confess.
We'll talk it over, tomorrow, if you are well enough."

Brice nodded, absently, as if wearied with the exertion of
their talk. His eyes had left Milo's, and had concentrated on
the man's big and hairy hands. As Milo spoke of the
supposititious criminals who desired his possessions enough to
do murder for them, his fists clenched, tightly. And to
Brice's memory came a wise old adage:

"When you think a man is lying to you, don't watch his face.