The man growled some retort and left, closing the door heavily behind him, while Ronicky Doone breathed freely again for the first time.

“Now,” said the man of the sneer, “tell me the whole of it, Ruth.”

Ronicky set his teeth.  Had the clever devil guessed at the truth so easily?  Had he sent his follower away, merely to avoid having it known that a man had taken shelter in the room of the girl he loved?

“Go on,” the leader was repeating.  “Let me hear the whole truth.”

“I—­I—­” stammered the girl, and she could say no more.

The man of the sneer laughed unpleasantly.  “Let me help you.  It was somebody you met somewhere—­on the train, perhaps, and you couldn’t help smiling at him, eh?  You smiled so much, in fact, that he followed you and found that you had come here.  The only way he could get in was by stealth.  Is that right?  So he came in exactly that way, like a robber, but really only to keep a tryst with his lady love?  A pretty story, a true romance!  I begin to see why you find me such a dull fellow, my dear girl.”

“John—­” began Ruth Tolliver, her voice shaking.

“Tush,” he broke in as smoothly as ever.  “Let me tell the story for you and spare your blushes.  When I sent you for Harry Morgan you found Lochinvar in the very act of slugging the poor fellow.  You helped him tie Morgan; then you took him here to your room; although you were glad to see him, you warned him that it was dangerous to play with fire—­fire being me.  Do I gather the drift of the story fairly well?  Finally you have him worked up to the right pitch.  He is convinced that a retreat would be advantageous, if possible.  You show him that it is possible.  You point out the ledge under your window and the easy way of working to the ground.  Eh?”

“Yes,” said the girl unevenly.  “That is—­”

“Ah!” murmured the man of the sneer.  “You seem rather relieved that I have guessed he left the house.  In that case—­”

Ronicky Doone had held the latch of the door turned back for some time.  Now he pushed it open and stepped out.  He was only barely in time, for the man of the sneer was turning quickly in his direction, since there was only one hiding place in the room.

He was brought up with a shock by the sight of Ronicky’s big Colt, held at the hip and covering him with absolute certainty.  Ruth Tolliver did not cry out, but every muscle in her face and body seemed to contract, as if she were preparing herself for the explosion.

“You don’t have to put up your hands,” said Ronicky Doone, wondering at the familiarity of the face of the man of the sneer.  He had brooded on it so often in the past few days that it was like the face of an old acquaintance.  He knew every line in that sharp profile.

“Thank you,” responded the leader, and, turning to the girl, he said coldly:  “I congratulate you on your good taste.  A regular Apollo, my dear Ruth.”