Page:Weird Tales volume 24 number 03.djvu/92

Rh affirmative, I would have committed the secret to the flames. But ever at the back of my mind there lurked a fear that the world might be confronted with another, even graver, crisis, when the possession of my secret would be the deciding factor between victory and defeat. For you may rest assured that whoever holds the sealed packet, which I hereby give into your hands, holds in his hands the destiny of mankind. Guard it, I entreat you, as a sacred trust; as something even dearer than life. For, once it falls into the hands of the emissaries of a nation whose ambition is the domination of the world, carnage and hideous chaos will follow as surely as the night follows day, and——"

A harsh command cut through Trenchard's voice like the stroke of an ax:

"Up with your hands—both of you!"

Three shadowy figures, each holding a levelled revolver, stood in the doorway.

HE grim command, backed as it was by muzzles of three weapons trained with such deadly accuracy as to make them appear like so many circles of steel, left no alternative but to obey. Hugh and Ronnie raised their hands above their heads.

"Keep 'em there, and don't move except as I tell you," said the man who had spoken before; to his companions he added, but without turning his head: "Keep the red-headed chap covered, Dawson; I'll see that the other one behaves himself. Regan, give 'em a frisk."

One of the men stepped forward and ran his hands lightly over Hugh's clothing. In a very few seconds he had found and removed the revolver which Hugh had carried in his hip pocket ever since the death of Silas Marle.

"Well heeled, eh?" The spokesman of the party took up the weapon with his disengaged hand and glanced at the conical bullets which nestled in the chambers of the cylinder. "See what sort of artillery the red-headed chap's got in the back of his pants——"

"Look here, old sport," remonstrated Ronnie, "not so much of the 'red-headed chap.' I know I'm not exactly a brunette, but——"

"Shut up! You'll have plenty of time to squawk when——" The rest of his remark was drowned in Ronnie's sudden cackle of laughter as the searcher inserted his fingers beneath his armpits. "What's the game now? Getting hysterical?"

"No—ticklish. I never could bear any one to touch me there. If you do not desist, I shall give one long scream and bite your face. I will—if it poisons me!"

"Stow your jaw," ordered the searcher roughly. "Where do you pack your gat?"

Ronnie looked pained.

"Gat? What vulgarity of terminology! We always refer to it as a 'lethal weapon' in our set. Well, if you're going to probe my anatomy until you find one, you'll wear your fingers into fists before you get the gat I haven't got. If you manage to find anything on me more deadly than a fountain-pen I'll present you with a fiver for your trouble."

The searcher paused and glanced round at the man who appeared to be the leader of the party.

"You heard that, sir?" he asked in a tone of virtuous triumph. "I call on you to witness that he offered me a bribe in the execution of my duty."

"Your duty?" gasped Hugh, a light beginning to dawn on him. "You don't mean to tell me that you are policemen?"

"By no means," was the answer, given somewhat stiffly. "We are detectives belonging to the Special Investigation Branch of Scotland Yard. I am Detective-Inspector Renshaw, and it is my duty