The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-05-03
THE RECKONING

It was the Adventurer who smoke first. o SpoNe
 Both of youi What charn,fne iuck! i' he murmured whimsical1y,
 ou Il forgive the intrusion. won't you! A friend of mine, the Spar TO" oy name-I think you are ac- qua1nted with him, Danglar-was good enough to open the door ror me- and locok it again on the outside ou See, l didn't wish to cause won any alarm through a premature sl1s plclon that you might have a guestr,, Ills voice hardened suddenly as he rose from the cot, and though he i!ihpeo badly, stepped quickly toward them. Don't move, Danglar-or you Mrs Danglar!" he ordered si,arp- ly-and with a lightning movement of his hand felt for, whipped DangIar,s revolver from the latter's pocket. Pardon me!' he said-and his hand was in and out of Rhoda Gray's DOC ket. He tossed the two weapons coolly over onto the cot well Danglar," hes miled grfnly, there's quite change in the last few hours, isn't there?'
 Danglar made no answer His face was ashen; his little black eyes. though searching for some avenue of escape, were darting hunted gIances all around the garrett
 Rhoda Gray, the first shock of sur prise gone, leaned back against the washstand with an air of composure that she did not altogether feel. What was the Adventurer going to do? True, she need have no fear of per- sonal violence-she had only to dis close herself But-but there were other conscientious. She saw that rPckOninC at an end. ugh-yes!-perhaps the Adventurer would become her ally in that matter. But, then, there was som ething else. The Adventurer was a t--ef. and she could not let him get away with those packages of bank notes up there behind the trap-door in the ceiling, if she could help 1t. That was perhaps what he had come for, and-and- Her mind seemed to tumble into chaos. She did not know what to do. She stared at the Adventurer. He was still dressed as the Pug, though the eye-patch was gone, and there was no longer any sign of the artificial facial disfigure- ments.
 The Adventurer spoke again.
 Wont you sit down-Mrs. Dang lar?" He pushed the single chair the garret possessed toward her-and
 
 ed motionless. 'Youn pardon me, then, if I sit down myself" He ap- propristed the chair. and faced them, his revolver dangling with ominous carelessness in his hand. i've had a rather upsetting experience this ev- ening, and I am afraid I am still a little the worse for it-as perhaps you know Danglar?"
 You damned traitori" Danglar N,,,-
 "Qu'-e so!'' said the Adventurer smoothly. But we'll get to that in a, minute. Do you mind if I inf1ict little story on you? I promise you it won't take long. It's a little per sonal history which I think will be interesting to you both; but, in any case, as my hosts, am sure you will be polite enough to listen. It con- cerns the murder of a man named Deemer; but in order that you may understand my interest in the matter, I must go back quite a little further. Perhaps I even ought to Introduce myself. My name, my real name, you know. is David Holt. My father was in the American Consular service in Indian when I was about ten He eventually left it and went into bus mess there through the advice of a very warm friend of his. a certain very rich and very powerful rajah in the State of Chota Nagpur in the Province of Bengal. where we then lived. I became an equally intimate friend of the rajah's son, iand-do I bore you, Danglar?
 (Continued Tomorrow )