"I should be delighted if I thought I should never set eyes on you again. I've come to the bottom of a good many of your tricks, and I've a good mind to wring your neck, you murderous little reptile."
"That's nonsense, arrant nonsense. But let's get to business. Look here, John Ramsay, you're very smart, but I'm smarter. I want that locket Veneda gave you. I must have it sooner or later, so you may as well hand it over now. Give it to me, and I'll give you a cheque for a thousand pounds. Could anything be fairer?"
"I wouldn't give it you for two hundred times that amount."
"You're a fool, a madman! You're bringing about your own ruin. You've got it on you now—give it to me, or I swear you don't leave this house alive. You can't escape; I've got men in the street, and I'm armed, so hand it over."
My temper, never too good at the best of times, here deserted me altogether. Picking up the poker, I made a dash at him. Quick as lightning he whipped a revolver from his pocket and covered me. Seeing him about to pull the trigger, I came to a halt. Before I knew what had happened, Juanita had thrown herself between us. He fired. Juanita gave a little cry and fell at my feet. Mad with rage, I sprang over her body towards him. He fired again. I felt a stab as if a red-hot knitting-needle had been run through me, and became unconscious.
When my senses came back to me, I was in the Charing Cross Hospital, more dead than alive. The bullet which had brought me down had been extracted, and the police were anxiously waiting to examine me as to the reason of it all. One thing was very certain; the Albino had achieved his purpose, for the precious locket, the cause of all the trouble, was gone.