Billie had been standing near the wall, inspecting a portrait of the late Mr. Josiah Appleby, of which the kindest thing one can say is that one hopes it did not do him justice. She now shrank back against this wall, as if she were trying to get through it. The edge of the portrait's frame tilted her hat out of the straight, but in this supreme moment she did not even notice it.

"Er--how do you do?" she said.

If she had not been an exceedingly pretty girl, one would have said that she spoke squeakily. The fighting spirit of the Bennetts, though it was considerable fighting spirit, had not risen to this emergency. It had ebbed out of her, leaving in its place a cold panic. She had seen this sort of thing in the movies--there was one series of pictures, "The Dangers of Diana," where something of the kind had happened to the heroine in every reel--but she had not anticipated that it would ever happen to her; and consequently she had not thought out any plan for coping with such a situation. A grave error. In this world one should be prepared for everything, or where is one?

"I've brought the revolver," said Mr. Peters.

"So--so I see!" said Billie.

Mr. Peters nursed the weapon affectionately in his hand. He was rather a shy man with women as a rule, but what Sam had told him about her being interested in his revolver had made his heart warm to this girl.

"I was just on my way to have a little practice at the range," he said. "Then I thought I might as well look in here."

"I suppose--I suppose you're a good shot?" quavered Billie.

"I seldom miss," said Jno. Peters.

Billie shuddered. Then, reflecting that the longer she engaged this maniac in conversation, the more hope there was of Sam coming back in time to save her, she essayed further small-talk.

"It's--it's very ugly!"

"Oh, no!" said Mr. Peters, hurt.

Billie perceived that she had said the wrong thing.

"Very deadly-looking, I meant," she corrected herself hastily.

"It may have deadly work to do, Miss Milliken," said Mr. Peters.

Conversation languished again. Billie had no further remarks to make of immediate interest, and Mr. Peters was struggling with a return of the deplorable shyness which so handicapped him in his dealings with the other sex. After a few moments, he pulled himself together again, and, as his first act was to replace the pistol in the pocket of his coat, Billie became conscious of a faint stirring of relief.

"The great thing," said Jno. Peters, "is to learn to draw quickly. Like this!" he added producing the revolver with something of the smoothness and rapidity with which Billie, in happier moments, had seen Bream Mortimer take a bowl of gold fish out of a tall hat. "Everything depends on getting the first shot! The first shot, Miss Milliken, is vital."

Suddenly Billie had an inspiration. It was hopeless, she knew, to try to convince this poor demented creature, obsessed with his _idee fixe_, that she was not Miss Milliken. Denial would be a waste of time, and might even infuriate him into precipitating the tragedy. It was imperative that she should humour him. And, while she was humouring him, it suddenly occurred to her, why not do it thoroughly?

"Mr. Peters," she cried, "you are quite mistaken!"

"I beg your pardon," said Jno. Peters, with not a little asperity. "Nothing of the kind!"

"You are!"

"I assure you I am not. Quickness in the draw is essential...."

"You have been misinformed."

"Well, I had it direct from the man at the Rupert Street range," said Mr. Peters stiffly. "And if you have ever seen a picture called 'Two-Gun Thomas'...."

"Mr. Peters," cried Billie desperately. He was making her head swim with his meaningless ravings. "Mr. Peters, hear me! I am not married to a man at Ealing West!"

Mr. Peters betrayed no excitement at the information. This girl seemed for some reason to consider her situation an extraordinary one, but many women, he was aware, were in a similar position. In fact, he could not at the moment think of any of his feminine acquaintances who _were_ married to men at Ealing West.

"Indeed?" he said politely.

"Won't you believe me?" exclaimed Billie wildly.

"Why, certainly, certainly," said Jno. Peters.

"Thank God!" said Billie. "I'm not even engaged! It's all been a terrible mistake!"

When two people in a small room are speaking on two distinct and different subjects and neither knows what on earth the other is driving at, there is bound to be a certain amount of mental confusion; but at this point Jno. Peters, though still not wholly equal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation, began to see a faint shimmer of light behind the clouds. In a nebulous kind of way he began to understand that the girl had come to consult the firm about a breach-of-promise action. Some unknown man at Ealing West had been trifling with her heart--hardened lawyer's clerk as he was, that poignant cry "I'm not even engaged!" had touched Mr. Peters--and she wished to start proceedings. Mr. Peters felt almost in his depth again. He put the revolver in his pocket, and drew out a note-book.

"I should be glad to hear the facts," he said with professional courtesy. "In the absence of the guv'nor...."

"I have told you the facts!"

"This man at Ealing West," said Mr. Peters, moistening the point of his pencil, "he wrote you letters proposing marriage?"

"No, no, no!"

"At any rate," said Mr. Peters, disappointed but hopeful, "he made love to you before witnesses?"

"Never! Never! There is no man at Ealing West! There never was a man at Ealing West!"

It was at this point that Jno. Peters began for the first time to entertain serious doubts of the girl's mental balance. The most elementary acquaintance with the latest census told him that there were any number of men at Ealing West. The place was full of them. Would a sane woman have ma............