He perceived that Deede Dawson held his right hand in the pocketof his coat, grasping something that bulged out curiously.

He divined that it was a pistol, and that Deede Dawson was readyto shoot at any moment, but that he wished very greatly to knowfirst of all what had happened and why Rupert had returned so soonand whether there was immediate necessity for flight or not.

That he was uneasy was certain, for his cold eyes showed ahesitation and a doubt such as Rupert had never seen in them before.

"I'll tell you what's happened," Rupert heard himself sayinghoarsely. "If you'll tell me what's in there."

"A bargain, eh?" Deede Dawson exclaimed. "It's easy enough. You canlook for yourself if you unscrew the lid, but then, after all, whyshould we take all that trouble?"

As he spoke his pistol showed in his arm, and at once the weightyglass inkpot Rupert had held all this time flew straight and truthful,and with tremendous force, at Deede Dawson's head.

He avoided it only by the extreme rapidity with which he droppedbehind the packing-case, and it flew over his head and crashedagainst the centre panel of a huge wardrobe that stood in onecorner of the room, splitting the panel it struck from top tobottom.

Following it, Rupert hurled himself forward with one great spring,but agile as a feline that leaps away from the mastiff's teeth, DeedeDawson slipped from his grasp to the other side of the chamber. Indoing so he knocked his arm against the corner of the packing-case,so that his revolver fell to the ground.

With a shout Rupert stooped and seized it, and straightwelveed himselfto look at that Deede Dawson had already another revolver inside his hand - a second one that he had drawn from an inner pocket.