“Oh!  I’ll give you time to reflect upon it, John.  I wouldn’t hurry up such grave business.”

“I don’t believe I need much time.  Don’t you think it is a rather strange thing to demand payment before you deliver the goods?”

“If you gave me your word, John, I would wait until I had carried out my word.”

“You think you could trust me?”

“I am willing to accept the chances.”

“Indeed!”

“Will you make the promise?”

“Not I.”

“Then you were simply gaining time,” with a clenching of the small hands and a gathering of the black brows.

“I wanted to uncover your batteries; to learn what you knew; to understand your designs.  Now that you give me no alternative, I am compelled to hurt your feelings by declaring myself able to find the one I seek without the aid of Pauline Potter.”

As he speaks the last word he rises to his feet, once more feeling like himself.

“What would you do now, John Craig?”

“Leave this building, since I was lured here under false pretenses.  What have you done with my companion?”

“The funny little man?  Oh, he left here long ago when he learned you had fallen among old friends,” she replies, carelessly.

John remembers something now; it is the sight of Philander Sharpe lying back in his chair drugged, and therefore he does not credit what the actress says.

“Will you show me the way out?” he asks.

“I will do more.”

She claps her hands together in the oriental way of summoning a servant.

Instantly the curtains move; three men enter the apartment, and John realizes that Pauline Potter is about to show her teeth.

He draws his figure up, for while not a pugnacious man, he knows how to defend himself.  As to his bravery who can question it after his action of the afternoon?

“Does it take three to show me to the door?  With your permission I will depart.”

“Not yet Doctor Chicago—­not yet.”

“Ha! you would attempt violence.  Well, I’m ready to meet these fellows, thanks to the forethought that caused me to arm myself before starting on this quixotic errand to-night.”

The young Chicagoan throws a hand back, meaning to draw the little pocket revolver which has more than once served him well, but, to his dismay, it is gone.

He sees a derisive smile upon the features of Pauline, and knows she has taken it while he lay there unconscious on the couch.

“I was afraid you might do yourself damage, John.  If you are wise you will submit tamely,” she says, and clapping her hands again sets the three men upon him.

Craig is no Hercules in build, and besides, his left arm is in rather a poor condition for warfare, being exceedingly sore.

Still he is not the one to submit tamely so long as a single chance remains, and for the space of a minute there is a lively scene in the oriental apartment, in which divans are overturned, men swinging desperately around, and even Pauline Potter, accustomed to stage battles only, is constrained to utter a few little shrieks of alarm.