“Sure, yes, I know,” replied the Russian. “Not in the army, no, but the navy.”
“What was his job?” demanded Mr. Henderson.
“That I do not know,” replied the other with a shrug of his shoulders.
“H-m-m,” muttered Mr. Henderson. “Well, I want you to be here to interpret. He doesn’t speak much English or won’t. I guess they’re coming now.”
A moment later, there was a rap on the door and
the janitor—once more in jumper and overalls—left by another entrance and armed with dustpan and broom proceeded to busy himself in the hallway exactly as if he had not been interrupted several hours previously by Frank’s excited summons to Mr. Pauling.
At Mr. Henderson’s “Come in!” two heavily built men in civilian clothes entered, crowding closely one on either side of the sullen man who had been captured by Rawlins.
Not until they had seated themselves at Mr. Henderson’s orders would any one have suspected that the pig-eyed man was a prisoner or was handcuffed. For a space, Mr. Henderson gazed steadily and silently at the prisoner who returned his stare, hate and venom in his eyes, and then, turning to Ivan, Mr. Henderson ordered him to ask the fellow certain questions.
It is not necessary to repeat the conversation, or rather the queries and replies, and for some time no satisfactory information was brought out, the captive absolutely refusing to admit anything or to say a word which might incriminate himself or his fellows. But when, after a deal of questioning,
Mr. Henderson had Ivan hint that the men captured in the raid on the garage had betrayed the Russian and his fellow diver, the man’s face took on a demoniacal expression, his eyes blazed and a torrent of curses and foul oaths burst from his lips.