She placed the men back to back, so that Austin faced the further end of
the room and Dick the open French window. They were to take three paces,
count one, two, three, and, at the end of the third pace, they were to
turn and fire.

Dick felt the touch of Austin's shoulder against his, and the flame at
his heart grew fiercer and the hell in his throat more burning, and the
universe whirled round in a red mist. Viviette moved to the
weapon-laden table.

"Now. One--two--three!"

[Illustration: Dick glared at him]

They paced and turned. Dick levelled his pistol instantly at Austin,
with murderous hate in his eyes, and drew the trigger. The pistol
clicked harmlessly. Austin, self-conscious, did not raise his pistol.
But Dick, broadening his chest, glared at him and shouted,
wildly, madly:

"Fire, damn you! Fire! Why the devil don't you fire?"

The cry was real, vibrant with fury and despair. Austin looked at him
for an amazed moment; then, throwing his pistol on to one of the
arm-chairs, he came up to him.

"What fool's game are you playing, Dick? Are you drunk?"

Katherine, with a low cry, flung herself between them, and, clinging to