"You are very clever," he said, with an attempt at sarcasm. "I can go

out and buy another. No, I can't"--he laughed rather quaveringly--"I

haven't the coin. Put that revolver down, young lady, and leave me

alone."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Celia, her eyes bright, her lips

drawn straight. "I mean, that I am going to take the revolver. And I am

not sure that I ought to leave you alone. If I do, will you promise

me----"

"That I won't try to kill myself in some other way? I will promise

you nothing of the sort; you don't know what you are asking. But, as I

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said before, I don't want to detain you. In fact, if you knew--what I

am----" his voice faltered for a moment--"you would clear out without

any urging on my part."

There was a pause, then: "What are you?" asked Celia, in a low voice.

"I am a forger," he replied, after another pause.

The colour left Celia's face, her lips quivered for a moment, but her

eyes did not turn from him; and his eyes, after an attempt on his part

to keep them steady, drooped before her intent gaze.

There was a silence which could be felt; then Celia said, very slowly,

very quietly: "I don't believe you."




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