Without wasting time I went forward again, and passing through a door which was opened at my approach, I found myself in the end room of a disused and tumbling riverside warehouse; the side next the river being quite open and over-hanging the waters. The place was unlighted save for the bright moonlight which came slanting in from the open end, and down through some chinks and gaps in the roof.
Scattered round the place were some thirty or forty men, their faces undistinguishable in the gloom, though care was taken to let me see that each man carried a knife: and when I entered, five or six of them closed round the door, as if to guard against the possibility of my retreat.
I glanced about me to see whom to address, or who would speak to me.
For a couple of minutes or more, not a soul moved and not a word was spoken. The only sounds audible were these which came from the river without; the hushed burr of night life from the dim city beyond.
"You plea has been considered," said a voice at length in a tone scarcely above a whisper; but I thought I could recognise it as that of the man who had been in my rooms. "It has been resolved not to accept it. You have been brought here to-night to die."
"As you will; I am ready," I answered promptly. "I am as ready to lose my life as you are to take it."
"Kneel down," said the man.
"Not I," I cried, resolutely. "If I am to die, I prefer to stand. But here, I'll make it easier for you. Here's the only weapon I have. Take it, someone." I laid my revolver on the floor in a little spot where a glint of moonlight fell on it. Then I threw off my coat and waistcoat and turning back my shirt bared the heart side of my breast. If they could be dramatic, so could I, I thought. "Here, strike," I cried. "And all I ask is for a clean quick thrust right to the heart." I was growing excited.
