“Is that so?” snarled M’Ginnis, “well, then, listen some more.  I know as you’re always hangin’ around her flat, and if Hermy don’t care about losing her good name—­”

Even as Ravenslee’s long arm shot out, M’Ginnis side-stepped the blow, and Ravenslee found himself staring into the muzzle of a revolver.

“Ah—­I thought so!” he breathed, and shrank away.

“Kind of alters things, don’t it?” enquired M’Ginnis, hoarse and jeering.  “Well, if you don’t want it to go off, sit down an’ write Hermy as pretty a little note as you can—­no, shut that window first.”

Silent and speechless, Ravenslee crossed to the window and drew down the sash, in doing which he noticed a dark something that crouched beneath the sill.

“An’ now,” said M’Ginnis, leaning against a corner of the desk, “sit down here, nice an’ close, an’ write that letter—­there’s pen an’ ink an’ paper—­an’ quick about it or by—­”

M’Ginnis sprang up and turned as the glass of the window splintered to fragments, and, almost with the crash, Ravenslee leapt—­a fierce twist, a vicious wrench, and the deadly weapon had changed hands.

“Lucky it didn’t go off,” said Ravenslee, smiling grimly at the revolver he held, “others might have heard, and, Mr. Flowers, I want to be alone with you just a little longer.  Of course, I might shoot you for the murderous beast you are, or I might walk you over to the nearest police depot for the crook I think you are—­but—­oh, well, of late I’ve been yearning to get my hands on you and so”—­Ravenslee turned and pitched the revolver through the broken window.  But, almost as the weapon left his hand, M’Ginnis was upon him, and, reeling from the blow, Ravenslee staggered blindly across the room, till stayed by the wall, and sank there, crouched and groaning, his face hidden in his hands.

With a cry hoarse and fierce, M’Ginnis followed and stooped, eager to make an end—­stooped to be met by two fierce hands, sure hands and strong, that grasped his silken neckerchief as this crouching figure rose suddenly erect.  So for a wild, panting moment they grappled, swaying grimly to and fro, while ever the silken neckerchief was twisted tight and tighter.  Choking now, M’Ginnis felt fingers on his naked throat, iron fingers that clutched cruelly, and in this painful grip was whirled, choking, against the wall and thence borne down and down.  And now M’Ginnis, lying helpless across his opponent’s knee, stared up into a face pale but grimly joyous, lips that curled back from gnashing white teeth—­eyes that glared merciless.  So Ravenslee bent M’Ginnis back across his knee and choked him there awhile, then suddenly relaxed his hold and let M’Ginnis sink, gasping, to the floor.

“A little—­rough, Mr. Flowers,” he panted, “a trifle—­rough with you—­I fear—­but I want you—­to know that you—­shall not utter—­her name—­in my presence.  Now the key—­I prefer door to window—­the key, Mr. Flowers—­ah, here it is!” So saying, Ravenslee stood upright, and wiping blood and sweat from him with his sleeve, turned to the door.  “One other thing, Mr. Flowers; have the goodness to take off your neckerchief next time, or I—­may strangle you outright.”