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At half-past seven Squire Hardy, his round, red face fringed by

snowy whiskers, came in. He dragged a chair into the passageway

in front of the bar and was beginning a long and laborious law

opinion when the detective, who had been to Mis' Shannon's

boarding-house for dinner, returned.

The two began to fight the matter out between them when, at a

quarter to eight, Nat came in, dressed in his best clothes and

smoking a land cigar.

"Well, what do you want of me, Schofield?" he asked. "You sent

for me, but you needn't try to beg off. I won't listen to it.

Now, go ahead."

On the instant a feminine voice was heard outside, and a moment

later Elsa Mallaby stepped into the little four-foot passage.

"Oh, how many there are here!" she said in a surprised voice.

"Perhaps, Code, I had better wait until later."