Monteagle now once more demanded the cause of his detention.
‘Your employer, Vandewater, lately sold a vessel on account of a New York merchant, for thirty thousand dollars, which sum he received in gold. That money was placed in your safe—’
‘Then you are the robbers!’
‘Silence, and listen! When we opened the safe, it only held a few thousands belonging to the firm. You know where the thirty thousand is placed. Inform us, and you shall be liberated, and if we obtain the money, you shall have five thousand dollars for your share.’
‘I’ll die first,’ indignantly cried Monteagle.
‘No—you’ll confess first, and maybe die soon after,’ said a voice which Monteagle to his surprise and joy recognized as that of Blodget.
‘What, Blodget, my friend, you here? Then this is all a joke. But it has been carried much too far,’ said Monteagle, his cheek flushing as he thought of the violence he had been subjected to.
‘If it’s a joke, youngster, you’ll think its a d—d poor one before we get through with it. But enough of this fooling! Tell where the money’s to be found, or by h-ll we’ll make you!’
‘Never—so help me heaven!’ said Monteagle, determinedly.
‘Just hand me that little vice,’ said Blodget, in a cool, business-like, tone.