A crowd was collecting. Through the press rushed a young man. "Need help,
Commander?"
"Only keep your eye peeled to see that another Bullshevist don't sneak up
and kick me from behind, after the like o' the breed!"
Demeter's exploration produced a bulldog revolver, a slungshot, a packet
of pamphlets, and several small red flags.
"What's your name?" demanded the commander.
"No business of yours!"
Lanigan kneeled on the captive and roweled cruel thumbs into the man's
neck. "Out with it before I dig deeper for it."
"Nicolai Krylovensky!"
"I knew it must be bad, but I didn't think it was as bad as that! I don't
blame ye for trying to keep it mum! And ye look as though it tasted bitter
coming up. I'll not poison me own mouth." He stood up and yanked the man
to his feet. "So I'll call ye Bill the Bomber! Where do ye work, or don't
ye work?"
"Conawin!"
"I thought so! One of that bunch down there that's trying to undermine the
best government on the face of the earth. Come along! I've got a bit o'
business on hand right now and I need you in it."
Then he turned, pushing the man ahead of him.
Lanigan became aware that the young fellow who had proffered aid was
muttering in a derogatory fashion.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98