Once more Landis stirred his lips; but there was only the flash of his teeth; he maintained his resolute silence.

“Ah,” murmured Donnegan, “I am sorry to see this.  And before all your admirers, Landis.  Before all your friends.  Look at them scattered there under the lights and in the shadows.  No farewell word for them?  Nothing kindly to say?  Are you going to leave them without a syllable of goodfellowship?”

“Confound you!” muttered Landis.

There was another hum from the crowd; it was partly wonder, partly anger.  Plainly they were not pleased with Jack Landis on this day.

Donnegan shook his head sadly.

“I hoped,” he said, “that I could teach you how to die.  But I fail.  And yet you should be grateful to me for one thing, Jack.  I have kept you from being a murderer in cold blood.  I kept you from killing a defenseless man as you intended to do when you walked up to me a moment ago.”

He smiled genially in mockery, and there was a scowl on the face of Landis.

“Two minutes,” said Donnegan.

Leaning back in his chair, he yawned.  For a whole minute he did not stir.

“One minute?” he murmured inquisitively.

And there was a convulsive shudder through the limbs of Landis.  It was the first sign that he was breaking down under the strain.  There remained only one minute in which to reduce him to a nervous wreck!

The strain was telling in other places.  Donnegan turned and saw in the shadow and about the edges of the room a host of drawn, tense faces and burning eyes.  Never while they lived would they forget that scene.

“And now that the time is close,” said Donnegan, “I must look to my gun.”

He made a gesture; how it was, no one was swift enough of eye to tell, but a gun appeared in his hand.  At the flash of it, Landis’ weapon leaped up to the mark and his face convulsed.  But Donnegan calmly spun the cylinder of his revolver and held it toward Landis, dangling from his forefinger under the guard.

“You see?” he said to Landis.  “Clean as a whistle, and easy as a girl’s smile.  I hate a stiff action, Jack.”

And Landis slowly allowed the muzzle of his own gun to sink.  For the first time his eyes left the eyes of Donnegan, and sinking, inch by inch, stared fascinated at the gun in the hand of the enemy.

“Thirty seconds,” said Donnegan by way of conversation.

Landis jerked up his head and his eyes once more met the eyes of Donnegan, but this time they were wide, and the pointed glance of Donnegan sank into them.  The lips of Landis parted.  His tongue tremblingly moistened them.

“Keep your nerve,” said Donnegan in an undertone.

“You hound!” gasped Landis.

“I knew it,” said Donnegan sadly.  “You’ll die with a curse on your lips.”

He added:  “Ten seconds, Landis!”

And then he achieved his third step toward victory, for Landis jerked his head around, saw the minute hand almost upon its mark, and swung back with a shudder toward Donnegan.  From the crowd there was a deep breath.