Glancing at Crow, Westerham saw with satisfaction that he was evidently much amazed and beginning to look uneasy. “Well, gentlemen,” Westerham continued, “it is unnecessary for me to mention the names of the people who are assisting Captain Melun in this enterprise. I really believe that they don't even know what the enterprise is. But there is an exception. One of them does know, because the business may involve dirtier work than Melun may care to do with his own hands.” Westerham paused, and saw that Crow's face was as pale as ashes. Again his intuition proved to be correct. “Gentlemen,” he cried, rising, and pointing an accusing finger at Crow, “that is the man who knows!” “It's a lie!” shrieked Crow; “it's a lie! It is only a matter of ten thousand pounds. Melun swore it to me.” In the silence that followed Westerham laughed loud and long. “Gentlemen,” he said at last, “I ask you if ever a man more completely condemned himself out of his own mouth?” Now the tide of anger turned and swept towards Crow. There was a great clamour, while the men, with curses, shouted at him for an explanation. Then above the hubbub there came a loud knocking, and turning in the direction of the sound they saw Melun, smiling and pleasant-looking as ever, pounding on the floor with his stick, while the negro stood behind him, grinning over his shoulder. Instantly silence fell again. “Now, then,” called Melun, coolly, “be quiet, all of you. Be quiet at once. We have been betrayed, and the man who has betrayed us is there!” For some seconds the men looked from Westerham to Melun, and then from Melun to Westerham. But the power of their old allegiance held good, and before he could utter a sound Westerham was seized and borne savagely to the floor. When he found himself pinned to the ground Westerham made not the slightest attempt to struggle. He had been in similar predicaments before, and knew that a policy of passive resistance was best. And, just as he had expected, when he made no effort to release himself the men partially relaxed their hold of him. Two of them, indeed, dragged him into a sitting posture. By this time Melun had taken his place at the head of the long table, and was rapping on the bare boards for order and for silence. “Two of you are enough there,” he said. “The rest of you get back to your seats.” The men followed his instructions hastily and almost sheepishly. When they were all seated again, Melun looked down their ranks sharply and a little furtively. CHAPTER XI MURDER MYSTERIOUS Melun's glance down the ranks of the men satisfied him that he had things well in hand. The bullet-headed man was shifting about on his seat, and Crow sat with a pasty face, twisting and bending his great, brutal fingers. “Gentlemen,” said Melun, almost politely, “I expect you feel that some explanation is due from me.” The majority of the men nodded in a surly way.