The Dark Star

"Did you do so? Then all the bettaire. I think we shall persuade him.

Do not venture to move, young man; I shoot veree willingly."

And Neeland, looking at him along the blunt barrel of the automatic

pistol, was inclined to believe him.

His sensations were not agreeable; he managed to maintain a calm

exterior; choke back the hot chagrin that reddened his face to the

temples; and cast a half humorous, half contemptuous glance at Ilse

Dumont.

"You prove true, don't you?" he said coolly. "--True to your trade of

story-telling, Scheherazade!"

"I knew--nothing--of this!" she stammered.

But Neeland only laughed disagreeably.

Then the door opened again softly, and Golden Beard came in without

his crutches.