"Yes," admitted Peter. "I know that. But only yesterday he fished me out of the Dingle Dell stream when I was almost on the point of being drowned. For why?"
"Ask me another," replied Entwistle. "At any rate, you will have cause to realise the actual existence of the Unseen Hand. But what happened just now, after he fired and missed?"
Peter Barcroft glanced at the clock. It wanted thirty seconds to complete the stipulated five minutes.
"I talked to him pretty straight," he said. "Shamed him a bit, I think. Anyway, I took four unused cartridges out of the revolver. Being a six-chambered weapon one cartridge remained."
"Well?"
"I handed the pistol back to him; told him if he were still of the same mind he had yet another chance to settle with me. He didn't—"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Entwistle striding towards the stairs. "You left him with a loaded revolver?"
Peter laid a detaining hand on the Secret Service man's shoulder.
"I gave him five minutes," he said. "And the time's up."
A pistol shot rang out from the upstairs room.