For a moment the air was heavy with tension. Then Vanderschoof smiled--a superior smile. Stevens' eyes blinked, and in that blink Ben charged, and as he moved, Murray and Tholfsen followed. There was a report like a clap of thunder in the narrow room, a tremendous ringing clang as the bullet struck the metal plate of Ben's shoulder and caromed to the ceiling, whirling him around against the desk and to the floor by the force of the impact. Murray leaped across his prostrate body, striking at the gun and knocking it down just in time to send the second shot wild; Tholfsen stumbled and fell across Ben. Ben was up first, diving for Murray and Stevens, now locked in close grapple, but the chess-player's action was more effective. From his prone position he reached up, grabbed Stevens' legs and pulled them from under him, bringing him down with a crash, just as Ben's added weight made the struggle hopelessly one-sided. In a moment more the dictator of the New York colony was sitting on his subject's chest while Murray held his arms. Vanderschoof, with the instinctive terror of the man of finance for physical violence, sat cowering in his chair. "Get--some wire," gasped Ben. "Don't think--cloth will hold him." Tholfsen released his hold on the legs and climbed to his feet. "Watch the other one, Murray," said Ben, his quick eye detecting a movement toward the gun on Vanderschoof's part. "Now you, listen," he addressed the man beneath him. "We could tie you up and lay you away to pickle until you died for the lack of whatever you need, or we could turn you over to Beeville to cut up as a specimen, and by God," glaring with a kind of suppressed fury, "I wouldn't hesitate to do it! You're jeopardizing the safety of the whole community." The grim face beneath him showed neither fear nor contrition. He hesitated a moment. "If I let you go and give you a car and a couple of batteries, will you promise to clear out and never come back?" Stevens laughed shortly. "Do you think you can bluff me? No." "All right, Tholfsen, get his feet first," said Ben, as the chess-player reappeared with a length of light-cord he had wrenched from somewhere. The feet kicked energetically, but the task was accomplished and the arms secured likewise. "You watch him," said Ben, "while I get a car around." "What are you going to do?" asked Vanderschoof, speaking for the first time since the scuffle. "Throw him in the river!" declared Ben, with ruthless emphasis. "Let him get out of that." Stevens took this statement with a calm smile that showed not the slightest trace of strain. "But you can't do that," protested the steamship man. "It's--it's inhuman." "Bring him outside boys," said Ben, without deigning to reply to this protest, and clanged out to the car. They lifted the helpless man into the back seat, and with a man on either side of him, started for Queensboro Bridge. The journey was accomplished in a dead silence. * * * * *