“There’ll be no need for that, Miss Standish,” said Brice.  “Of course, Hade can foreclose his mortgage on your half-brother’s property and call in Standish’s notes,—­if he’s in a position to do it, which I don’t think he will be.  But, as for the raised check, why, he’s threatening Standish with an empty gun.  Hade, if ever you get home again, look in the compartment of your strongbox where you put the red-sealed envelope with Standish’s check in it.  The envelope is still there.  So are the seals.  The check is not.  You can verify that, for yourself, later, perhaps.  In the meantime, take my word for it.”

A cry of delight from Claire—­a groan from Standish that carried with it a world of supreme relief—­broke in upon Gavin’s recital.  Paying no heed to either of his hosts, Brice walked across to the unmovedly smiling Hade, and placed one hand on the latter’s shoulder.

“Mr. Hade,” said he, quietly, “I am an officer of the Federal Secret Service.  I place you under arrest, on charges of—­”

With a hissing sound, like a striking snake’s, Rodney Hade shook off the detaining hand.  In the same motion, he leaped backward, drawing from his torn pocket an automatic pistol.

Brice, unarmed, stood for an instant looking into the squat little weapon’s black muzzle, and at the gleaming black eyes in the ever-smiling white face behind it.

He was not afraid.  Many times, before, had he faced leveled guns, and, like many another war-veteran, he had outgrown the normal man’s dread of such weapons.

But as he was gathering his strength for a spring at his opponent, trusting that the suddenness and unexpectedness of his onset might shake the other’s aim, Rodney Hade took the situation into his own hands.

Not at random had he made that backward leap.  Still covering Gavin with his pistol, he flashed one hand behind him and pressed the switch-button which controlled the electric lights in the hallway and the adjoining rooms.

Black darkness filled the place.  Brice sprang forward through the dark, to grapple with the man.  But Hade was nowhere within reach of Brice’s outflung arms.  Rodney had slipped, snakelike, to one side, foreseeing just such a move on the part of his foe.

Gavin strained his ears, to note the man’s direction.  But Milo Standish was thrashing noisily about in an effort to locate and seize the fugitive.  And the racket his huge body made in hitting against furniture and in caroming off the walls and doors, filled the hall with din.

Remembering at last the collie’s presence in that mass of darkness, Gavin shouted: 

“Bobby!  Bobby Burns!  Take him!”

From somewhere in the gloom, there was a beast-snarl and a scurry of clawed feet on the polished floor.  At the same time the front door flew wide.

Silhouetted against the bright moonlight, Brice had a momentary glimpse of Hade, darting out through the doorway, and of a tawny-and-white canine whirlwind flying at the man’s throat.