The Haunter of the Ring

As I entered John Kirowan's study I was too much engrossed in my own
thoughts to notice, at first, the haggard appearance of his visitor, a
big, handsome young fellow well known to me.

"Hello, Kirowan," I greeted. "Hello, Gordon. Haven't seen you for
quite a while. How's Evelyn?" And before he could answer, still on the
crest of the enthusiasm which had brought me there, I exclaimed: "Look
here, you fellows, I've got something that will make you stare! I got
it from that robber Ahmed Mektub, and I paid high for it, but it's
worth it. Look!" From under my coat I drew the jewel-hilted Afghan
dagger which had fascinated me as a collector of rare weapons.

Kirowan, familiar with my passion, showed only polite interest, but
the effect on Gordon was shocking.

With a strangled cry he sprang up and backward, knocking the chair
clattering to the floor. Fists clenched and countenance livid he faced
me, crying: "Keep back! Get away from me, or--"

I was frozen in my tracks.

"What in the--" I began bewilderedly, when Gordon, with another amazing
change of attitude, dropped into a chair and sank his head in his
hands. I saw his heavy shoulders quiver. I stared helplessly from him
to Kirowan, who seemed equally dumbfounded.

"Is he drunk?" I asked.

Kirowan shook his head, and filling a brandy glass, offered it to the
man. Gordon looked up with haggard eyes, seized the drink and gulped
it down like a man half famished. Then he straightened up and looked
at us shamefacedly.

"I'm sorry I went off my handle, O'Donnel," he said. "It was the
unexpected shock of you drawing that knife."

"Well," I retorted, with some disgust, "I suppose you thought I was
going to stab you with it!'

"Yes, I did!" Then, at the utterly blank expression on my face, he
added: "Oh, I didn't actually think that; at least, I didn't reach
that conclusion by any process of reasoning. It was just the blind
primitive instinct of a hunted man, against whom anyone's hand may be
turned."