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He had expected that call from Allen; the timing had been perfect.

Now, his expression seemed to say: “You haven’t any choice.”

Rollison picked up the hangman’s rope and drew it through his fingers, and for the first time Merino’s eyes flickered towards it His smile disappeared, and he sat more upright in his chair.

“Well, Mr. Rollison? What’s your decision?”

“I think I’ll tell you a story,” said Rollison mildly. “There was once a very clever young man, an intellectual, a man who thought that he could defy Scotland Yard and all the police put together. And he did, for a long time. No one suspected him of crime, of murder— of a dozen-and-one offences against the law of the land and against ordinary human decency. I came to know him slightly. I had a great admiration for his cleverness, Merino—he wasn’t a fool, either. And I think he might have got away with murder and most of his crimes but—he fell in love with a girl. A nice girl. Not his type, not in his set and married. He didn’t worry about that. He always got what he wanted. He began to play on that girl’s nerves. He did so by working on her husband and framing him for crimes he hadn’t committed. He tormented and tortured both of them. He thought the time would come when he would get the girl, but—that was his mistake. This is the result——”

He lifted the rope.

Merino said: “You can’t frighten me.

“Oh, I didn’t frighten the man this rope hanged,” said Rollison, “but he was hanged. I often wonder whether he would have been, had he let that girl alone. I didn’t get him, nor did the police. We both helped, but the real thing that broke that man’s neck was a thing he hadn’t thought of. Love. Boy-loves-girl. Get a real case of that, and it’s stronger than anything else. Barbara Allen and her husband are a curious parallel.”

“You may think that’s so,” said Merino, but there was a slight huskiness in his voice which hadn’t been there before. “I can do what I like with the Aliens.” He looked at the rope again, as Rollison kept drawing it between his fingers. “And I’ve told you the truth, Rollison, but you’ve lied. That rope didn’t hang anyone, it——”

“Oh, it’s the same rope,” said Rollison. “How I got it won’t interest you, except—people said it was quite impossible to obtain!” He smiled. “I’ve many friends, inside and outside Scotland Yard. You may think you know something about me, that I’m supposed to be a free-lance who sticks his nose into crime and works independently of the police, but—I’ve seldom worked alone, although I’ve sometimes worked without consulting the police.” He turned round suddenly and took a knife from the wall. It was of the stiletto type, with a handle of beautifully worked silver. He balanced it on his fingers as he went on:

“There’s an instance. I took that out of a man’s heart, Merino. The victim had tried to get away with murder and worse, and he was hunted by people he’d victimised—and I helped those people. Not with the intention of letting them kill him, I wanted to see him hanged, but events got ahead of me. I couldn’t have helped by telling the police. I might have made the situation worse. There wasn’t any evidence of murder against the man—so the police didn’t come in until the body was found. I found it and sent for them; this was an exhibit at the inquest.” He tossed it up, and the blade glistened in the light.

“A nice clean job. I don’t know where the killer is now, I couldn’t even have produced evidence that he was the killer, but I knew it all right. Queer things happen in this hunt of criminals, Merino, things such as you’ve never heard about

They will again. And——” He stood up suddenly, and laughed.

“My dear chap, you’re already half-crazy I You can’t buy licence to put men and women into hell. I’ve no evidence against you now, it wouldn’t help if I were to send for the police, although if it would, I’d tell ‘em and let the Aliens work out their own salvation. But—if anything happened to me, the police would know everything. And my friends wouldn’t hesitate to take revenge.”

“You’ve got a clever tongue, but it won’t help you,” said Merino, after a pause. He stood up slowly. “I’m giving you another chance to take that vacation.”

Their eyes burned at each other. Merino leaned forward, put the jewels back into the case, closed it and slid it into his pocket.

“Don’t blame me,” he said.

“I won’t blame anyone,” said Rollison. “No, don’t go for a moment.” He pressed a bell at the side of his desk.

Merino stared

Jolly did not come immediately.

Rollison’s heart began to beat in a queer, spasmodic fashion. From the first he had seen the possibility that this man had brought others; that while they had been talking, Jolly had been attacked and overpowered. Merino might have more to his bluff than had appeared.

And then the door opened.

“You rang, sir?” said Jolly.

“I rang,” said Rollison. “Bring in your camera, Jolly, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Jolly went out—but before he closed the door he mouthed a word, a short word, which Rollison did not understand. It might mean a warning—that Jolly had seen someone else outside. Rollison turned that over in his mind as Merino backed slowly towards the door.

He said harshly:

“What’s this about a camera?”

“You’re going to have your photograph taken,” said Rollison.

“To hell with that? I——”

“You’re going to have your photograph taken,” Rollison insisted. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out an automatic. He glanced down at it, opened the magazine, and held it so that Merino could see inside. “Loaded, and don’t say I daren’t use it. Merino, if you were to get hurt through resisting, Jolly and I would concoct a story. That you came with menaces and tried to do me violence and got hurt in the process. That would be real evidence, as we’d both be eyewitnesses.” He laughed at Merino’s savage expression.

“Not all the bluffs on one side. Ah—Jolly!”

Jolly mouthed that word again but still Rollison did not get it He put it to the back of his mind as Jolly came forward with his camera and equipment The latter had only recently taken up this hobby seriously, although he had always done some photography for The Toff. He had perfected his camerawork—the flash-light and bowl were there—and he held it high.

Merino bellowed: “Put that down!”

He made a rush for Jolly, who skipped nimbly to one side.

Rollison rounded the desk, Merino glanced at him, as if afraid that he would shoot, but when Rollison missed a chance, Merino shouted again and struck out at the camera and the bulb. He missed. Rollison reached him, poked the gun in his ribs and caught his right arm in a half-Nelson. Merino gasped with the sudden pain.

The light flashed!

Rollison released the big man and stepped aside.

“Would you like one without the beard, sir?” asked Jolly politely.

“Without——” roared Merino.

“Not a bad idea,” said Rollison. Merino swung round on him, but this time the gun was pointed towards his chest. Rollison’s expression had altered completely; he looked grim and dangerous.

Rollison said: “See if it’s real. The beard, not Merino.”

“Very good, sir.” Jolly stepped forward swiftly and, before Merino could jerk his head away, took a hearty tug at the beard. Merino gasped. Jolly darted back, saying as he did so:

“It appears to be real, sir.”

“We could shave it off,” mused Rollison.

Merino backed towards the wall. His red lips were parted and drawn back from his white teeth. He was rigid with rage and Rollison believed that whatever the danger, Merino would try to do violence if they approached him.

“But, sir,” went on Jolly. “I believe the police are able to remove the beard in a photograph sir, and by a process of facial measurement, identify the man, even though, when apprehended, he has no beard. Of course if you would prefer me to get the razor——” He broke off, inquiringly.