"Gosh-all-Hemlock!" spluttered Billy, not yet equal to his best narrative style.
We waited. He drew a dozen long breaths before he was again the cold, self-possessed, steely-eyed avenger.
"Well," he began brightly, "I gains access to our man in his wretched den on the second floor of the Eubanks Block. As good luck would have it, he was alone by hisself, walkin' up and down, swingin' his arms like he was practisin' one o' them speeches of his.
"Well, I had it all fixed up fine how I was goin' to act, and what I was goin' to say to him, and how I'd back up a few paces against the wall and say, 'Not a word above a whisper, or I'll send this bullet through your craven heart!' and he'd fall down on his knees and beg me in vain for mercy and so on. But Gee! the minute I seen him I got all nervoused up and I jest says, 'Here, read that there piece—your wife's comin' next Thursday!'
"Well, sir, at those careless words of mine he gives a guilty start, his face blanched with horror, and he hissed through his set teeth, 'Which one?'—as quick as that.
"Me?—I couldn't git out a word for a minute, and he started for me. 'Which one?' he repeats, hoarse with rage, and that gives me an idee. 'Stand back!' I cried fearlessly, 'stand back, coward that you are—make no word of outcry, or it will go hard with you—they're both comin',' I says,—'this one's
