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82 "Tell me," continued Hugh, "why did you allow this scoundrel to treat you in such an off-hand manner? It doesn't seem to me to be the sort of thing that ought to happen at all, and I suggest your going to the police at once."

"Unfortunately a bullet intended for him just missed," answered Peterson casually. "A pity—because there would have been no trace of him by now."

"Might be awkward for you," murmured Hugh. "Such methods, Mr. Peterson, are illegal, you know. It's a dangerous thing to take the law into your own hands. May I offer you a drink?"

Peterson declined courteously. "Thank you—not at this hour." Then he rose. "I take it, then, that you will not return me my property here and now."

"Still the same delusion, I see!" remarked Hugh with a smile.

"Still the same delusion," repeated Peterson. "I shall be ready to receive both the paper and the man up till six o'clock to-night at 32A, Berners Street; and it is possible, I might even say probable, should they turn up by then, that I shall not find it necessary to kill you."

Hugh grinned. "Your forbearance amazes me," he cried. "Won't you really change your mind and have a drink?"

"Should they not arrive by then, I shall be put to the inconvenience of taking them, and in that case—much as I regret it—you may have to be killed. You're such an aggressive young man, Captain Drummond—and, I fear, not very tactful." He