From the man who came to the door Mr. Bromfield’s visitor learned that he was not well and could receive no callers.

“Just mention the Omnium Club, and say I’m here on very important business,” said Jerry with a sour grin.

The reference served as a password.  Jerry was admitted to meet a host quite unable to control his alarm.  At sight of his visitor Bromfield jumped up angrily.  As soon as his man had gone he broke out in a subdued scream.

“You rotten traitor!  Get out of my room, or I’ll call the police.”

Durand found a comfortable chair, drew a case from his pocket, and selected a cigar.  He grinned with evil mirth.

“You will, eh?  Like hell you will.  You’re hidin’ from the cops this blessed minute.  I’ve just found out myself where you live.”

“You took my money and threw me down.  You hired a gunman to kill me.”

“Now, what would I do that for?  I hadn’t a thing in the world against you, an’ I haven’t now.”

“That damned ruffian shot at me.  He was still shooting when I struck him with the chair,” cried Bromfield, his voice shaking.

“He didn’t know it was you—­mistook you for Lindsay in the darkness.”

“My God, I didn’t mean to kill him.  I had to do something.”

“You did it all right.”

“I told you there wasn’t to be any violence.  It was explicitly stated.  You promised.  And all the time you were planning murder.  I’ll tell all I know.  By God, I will.”

“Go easy, Mr. Bromfield,” snarled Jerry.  “If you do, where do ye think you’ll get off at?”

“I’ll go to the police and tell them your hired gunman was shooting at us.”

“Will you now?  An’ I’ll have plenty of good witnesses to swear he wasn’t.”  Durand bared his teeth in a threat.  “That’s not all either.  I’ll tie you up with the rube from the West and send you up to Sing Sing as accessory.  How’d you like that?”

“If I tell the truth—­”

“You’ll be convicted of murder in place of him and he’ll go up as accessory.  I don’t care two straws how it is.  But you’d be a damned fool.  I’ll say that for you.”

“I’m not going to let an innocent man suffer in my place.  It wouldn’t be playing the game.”

Durand leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger-tips.  His voice rasped like a file.  “You can’t save him.  He’s goin’ to get it right.  But you can hurt yourself a hell of a lot.  Get out of the country and stay out till it’s over with.  That’s the best thing you can do.  Go to the Hawaiian Islands, man.  That’s a good healthy climate an’ the hotel cooking’s a lot better than it is at Sing Sing.”

“I can’t do it,” moaned the clubman.  “My God, man, if it ever came out—­that I’d paid you money to—­to—­ruin his reputation, and that I’d run away when I could have saved an innocent man—­I’d be done for.  I’d be kicked out of every club I’m in.”