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"Let the winner of the spin choose" said Preston at length.

"Very well, gentlemen. Please call, Mr. Hornblower."

"Tails!" said Hornblower as the gold piece spun in the air.

Masters caught it and clapped a hand over it.

"Tails it is" said Masters, lifting his hand and revealing the coin to the grouped seconds. "Please make your choice."

Hepplewhite held out the two pistols to him, death in one hand and life in the other. It was a grim moment. There was only pure chance to direct him; it called for a little effort to force his hand out.

"I'll have this one" he said; as he touched it the weapon seemed icy cold.

"Then now I have done what was required of me" said Masters. "The rest is for you gentlemen to carry out."

"Take this one, Simpson" said Hepplewhite. "And be careful how you handle yours, Mr. Hornblower. You're a public danger."

The man was still grinning, gloating over the fact that someone else was in mortal danger while he himself was in none. Simpson took the pistol Hepplewhite offered him and settled it into his hand; once more his eyes met Hornblower's, but there was neither recognition nor expression in them.