He stood like an
animal ready to spring, goaded to the end of his endurance, yet
waiting--waiting for something, he knew not what.
If Saltash had smiled then he would have been upon him in an instant. But
Saltash did not smile. He knew the exact value of the situation, and he
handled it with a sure touch. With absolute gravity he took his hand from
his pocket.
Fielding took a swift step forward, but with an odd twist of the
brows Saltash reassured him. He held out a revolver to Dick on the
palm of his hand.
"Here you are!" he said. "It's fully loaded. If you want to shoot a
friend, you'll never have a better chance. Mr. Fielding, will you kindly
look the other way?"
Dead silence followed his words. The lamplight flickered on Dick's face,
throwing into strong relief every set grim feature. His lips were tightly
compressed--a single straight line across his stern face. His eyes never
varied; they were almost unbearably bright. They held Saltash's with a
tensity of purpose that was greater than any display of physical force.
It was as if the two were locked in silent combat.
It lasted for many seconds, that mute and motionless duel, then very
suddenly from a wholly unexpected quarter there came an interruption.
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