Part 56 (1/2)

Braine and his men dashed into the library. Olga entered leisurely.

”Both of them!” yelled Braine exultantly. ”Both of them together; what luck!”

There was a sharp, fierce struggle; and when it came to an end Hargreave was trussed to a chair.

”Ah, so we meet again, Hargreave!” said Braine.

Hargreave shrugged. What he wanted was time.

”A million! We have you. Where is it, or I'll twist your heart before your eyes.”

”Father, forgive me!”

”I understand, my child.”

”Where is it?” Braine seized Florence by the wrist and swung her toward him.

”Don't tell him, father; don't mind me,” said the girl bravely.

Braine, smiling his old evil smile, drew the girl close. It was the last time he ever touched her.

”Look!” screamed Olga.

Every one turned, to see Jones' face peering between the curtains.

There was an ironic smile on the butler's lips. The face vanished.

”After him!” cried Braine, releasing Florence.

”After him!” mimicked a voice from the hall.

The curtains were thrown back suddenly. Jones appeared, and Jim and the Russian agent and a dozen policemen. Tableau!

Braine sprang at Florence savagely, and Norton tore him back, and they went tumbling through the library and the living room. It was a death struggle; make no mistake about that. The others dared not shoot for fear of hitting Norton. But the Countess Olga, in the hallway, dared the risk. As Norton's back came into view she fired. Almost at the same instant Norton had swung Braine about. A shudder ran through the arch-scoundrel, his hands slipped off Norton's shoulders, a surprised expression swept over his face, then he sank inertly to the floor, dead.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BRAINE SANK INERTLY TO THE FLOOR, DEAD]

Olga ran up-stairs wildly, followed by a determined policeman. She dashed into Florence's room and locked the door. Instantly she crossed over to the window, and paused.

Down-stairs the police were marching off the leaders of the Black Hundred.

”Well,” said Norton, ”I guess it's all over. And, my word for it, Mr.

Jedson, you've played your end consummately.”

”Jedson!” exclaimed Jones, starting back.

”Yes, Jedson, formerly of Scotland Yard,” went on the reporter. ”I recognized him long ago.”

”It is true,” said Hargreave, taking Jones' hand in his own. ”Fifteen years ago I employed him to watch my affairs, and very well has he done so.”