The man fell back, in his eyes a look of ferocious wonderment.  “Who are you?  By—–!” he said.

“John Steele.”

“John Steele?” The bloodshot eyes became slightly vacuous.  “The—?  Then you used him,” indicating savagely the entrance at the back, “for a duck to uncover?” Steele nodded.  “And you’re the one who’s been so long at my heels?” Rage caused the hot blood to suffuse the man’s face.  “I’ll burke you for that.”

John Steele did not stir; for an instant his look, confident, assured, seemed to keep the other back.  “How?  With the lead, or—­”

The fellow lifted his hairy fists.  “Those are all I—­”

“In that case—­” Steele took the weapon, on which his hand had rested, from his pocket; rising with alacrity he placed it on a rickety stand behind him.  “You have me a little outclassed; about seventeen stone, I should take it; barely turn thirteen, myself.  However,” tossing his coat in the corner, “you look a little soft; hardly up to what you were when you got the belt for the heavy-weight championship.  Do you remember?  The ’Frisco Pet went against you; but he was only a low, ignorant sailor and had let himself get out of form.  You beat him, beat him,” John Steele’s eyes glittered; he touched the other on the arm, “though he fought seventeen good rounds!  You stamped the heart out of him, Tom.”

The red-headed giant’s arms fell to his side.  “How do you—­”

“I was there!” An odd smile crossed Steele’s determined lips.  “Lost a little money on that battle.  Recall the fourteenth round?  He nearly had you; but you played safe in the fifteenth, and then—­you sent him down—­down,” John Steele’s voice died away.  “It was a long time before he got up,” he added, almost absently.

The listener’s face had become a study; perplexity mingled with other conflicting emotions.  “You know all that—?”

“And all the rest!  How for you the fascination of the road became greater than that of the ring; how the old wildness would crop out; how the highway drew you, until—­”

“See here, what’s your little game?  Straight now; quick!  You come here, without the police, why?”

John Steele’s reply was to the point; he stated exactly what he wanted and what he meant that the other should give him.  As the fellow heard, he breathed harder; he held himself in with difficulty.

“And so that’s what you’ve come for, Mister?” he said, a hoarse guffaw falling from the coarse lips.  John Steele answered quietly.  “And you think there is any chance of your getting it?  May I be asking,” with an evil grin, “how you expect to make me, Tom Rogers,” bringing down his great fist, “do your bidding?”

“In the first place by assuring you no harm shall come to you.  It is in my power to avert that, in case you comply.  In the second place, you will be given enough sovereigns to—­”

“Quids, eh?  Let me have sight of them, Mister.  We might talk better.”