The twitching lips were controlled with what appeared to be an almost superhuman effort, but the words came jerkily. "What would my word, extorted--under such conditions--be worth to you?" Eleanor could hear, in spite of the terror that would not let her cry out or run for help. He was yielding to them, bargaining for his life! "We'll take it," said the spokesman coolly. "If you break faith with us there are more than two of us who will see to it that you don't live long enough to brag about it. You've had your day, and you've got to go." "And if I refuse?" Eleanor made sure that the voice was steadier now. "It's this, here and now," grated the taller man who had hitherto kept silence, and he cocked his revolver and jammed the muzzle of it against the bleeding temple of the man in the chair. The captive straightened himself as well as his bonds would let him. "You--you've let the psychological moment go by, gentlemen: I--I've got my second wind. You may burn and destroy and shoot as you please, but while I'm alive I'll stay with you. Blaze away, if that's what you want to do." The horror-stricken watcher at the door covered her face with her hands to shut out the sight of the murder. It was not until Lidgerwood's voice, calm and even-toned and taunting, broke the silence that she ventured to look again. [Illustration: "Well, gentlemen, I'm waiting. Why don't you shoot?"] "Well, gentlemen, I'm waiting. Why don't you shoot? You are greater cowards than I have ever been, with all my shiverings and teeth-chatterings. Isn't the stake big enough to warrant your last desperate play? I'll make it bigger. You are the two men who broke the rail-joint at Silver Switch. Ah, that hits you, doesn't it?" "Shut up!" growled the tall man, with a frightful imprecation. But the smaller of the two was silent. Lidgerwood's grin was ghastly, but it was nevertheless a teeth-baring of defiance. "You curs!" he scoffed. "You haven't even the courage of your own necessities! Why don't you pluck up the nerve to shoot, and be done with it? I'll make it still more binding upon you: if you don't kill me now, while you have the chance, as God is my witness I'll hang you both for those murders last night at Silver Switch. I know you, in spite of your flimsy disguise: _I can call you both by name_!" Out in the yard the yellings and shoutings had taken on a new note, and the windows of the upper room were jarring with the thunder of incoming trains. Eleanor Brewster heard the new sounds vaguely: the jangle and clank of the trains, the quick, steady tramp of disciplined men, snapped-out words of command, the sudden cessation of the riot clamor, and now a shuffling of feet on the stairway behind her.