"Stirling, you've got to give me that package!" he cried, springing to his feet and lifting his cane threateningly.
"Have I?" said Bart, facing him watchingly.
"Be careful, Colonel Harrington! you are pretty near committing a criminal offense."
"You're in the plot—you know all about it! Give up that package, or—or—"
"Colonel Harrington," said Bart calmly, but every word ringing out as clear as the tone of a bell, "I am no ruffian, and I hate violence, but if you lift that cane to me again—I'll shoot."
Bart showed the gleaming top of the weapon in his pocket, backing to the door.
Just then the door behind him was forcibly thrust open, its edge hitting him violently. Then someone pounced upon him.
The attack was sudden and effective. A piece of rope was looped deftly about Bart's arms, holding him helpless, secured behind, and as he was pushed roughly against the desk. Lem Wacker's evil face leered down upon him.
"Don't you holler!" ordered Lem.
As he spoke, he leaned over the railing. The waste box held a mass of cotton that had packed some of the parcels disposed of at the sale that afternoon. Lem grabbed up a handful, and forcibly stuffed it into Bart's mouth.