“Oh, Geoff—­oh, Geoff!” panted Spike, “I ain’t—­come thievin’ this time—­honest t’ God, I ain’t!”

“Why, you’re hurt—­what’s the matter?”

“They see me down th’ road as I came an’ shot me, but this ain’t nothin’.  Out th’ lights, Geoff—­out ’em—­quick!”

But Ravenslee had crossed the room, had seized the lad’s arm, and was examining the ugly graze that bled so freely.

“That ain’t nothin’—­douse th’ lights, Geoff—­out ’em quick.  Bud’s coming here close behind—­Bud an’ Heine—­they mean t’ plug you—­oh, put out th’ lights—­”

Instinctively Ravenslee turned, but even as he did so Spike uttered a hoarse cry.

“No, ye don’t, Bud—­not this time, by God!” and sprang upon the form that towered between the curtains; came the sound of fierce scuffling, a deafening report, and running forward, Ravenslee caught Spike as he staggered back; heard a rush and trample of feet along the terrace, the sound of blows and fierce curses behind the swaying curtains, heard the Spider’s fierce shout and Joe’s deep roar, two more shots in rapid succession, and the swift patter of feet in flight and pursuit.

“How is it, Spike?  Are you hurt, old chap?”

But Spike just then was beyond words, so Ravenslee bore the swooning boy to a settee, and laying him there, began to search hastily for the wound.

But now the door was flung wide and Hermione was beside him.

“Geoffrey—­oh, my love!  Have they hurt you?”

“No, dear—­thanks to Spike, here!”

“Arthur!  Oh, thank God—­did he—?”

“Took the bullet meant for me, Hermione.  I owe your brother my life!”

She was down on her knees and very soon her skilful fingers had laid bare the ugly wound in the lad’s white arm.  But now came Mrs. Trapes, looking taller and bonier than ever in a long, very woolly garment, and while she aided Hermione to bandage the wound, Ravenslee brought water and brandy, and very soon Spike sighed and opened his eyes.

“Hello, Hermy!” he said faintly.  “Don’t worry, I’m all O. K. Bud shot me an’ I’m glad, because now I can ask you t’ forgive me.  Y’ see, he’d have got old Geoff sure if it hadn’t been for me, so you—­you will forgive me, won’t you?”

For answer Hermione bent and kissed his pallid cheek.

“I’ll go and ’phone for the doctor,” said Ravenslee.

“Which,” said Mrs. Trapes, “I done ten minutes ago, Mr. Geoffrey.  Doctor’ll be right along.”

Ravenslee turned to Spike.

“How are you now, old fellow?”

“Only a bit sick, like.  But say, Geoff—­I know I played it low down on you, but—­will you—­shake an’ try t’ forget?”

Ravenslee took and held the boy’s outstretched hand.

“I think we’re going to be better friends than ever, Spike!”

“Good!” said Spike, smiling wearily, “but say, Geoff—­dear old Geoff—­if I got t’ die I don’t mind—­because I guess this makes us quits at last—­don’t it, Geoff?”