Kennedy was a dangerous prisoner.
He calmly sat down in an arm chair, leaning back as he carefully
balanced the deadly little box of fulminate of mercury on his
knee. He placed his finger tips together and smiled at the seven
crooks, who had gathered together, staring breathlessly at this
man who toyed with death.
Gertie ran from the room.
For a moment they looked at each other, undecided, then one by
one, they stepped away from Kennedy toward the door.
The leader was the last to go. He had scarcely taken a step.
"Stop!" ordered Kennedy.
The crook did so. As Craig moved toward him, he waited, cold sweat
breaking out on his face.
"Say," he whined, "you let me be!"
It was ineffectual. Kennedy, still smiling confidently, came
closer, still holding the deadly little box, balanced between two
fingers.
He took the crook's gun and dropped it into his pocket.
"Sit down!" ordered Craig.
Outside, the other six parleyed in hoarse whispers. One raised a
gun, but the woman and the others restrained him and fled.
"Take me to your master!" demanded Kennedy.
The crook remained silent.
"Where is he?" repeated Craig. "Tell me!"
Still the man remained silent. Craig looked the fellow over again.
Then, still with that confident smile, he reached into his inside
pocket and drew forth the tube I had seen him place there.
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