"But I do mean it, you grovelling coward. And if you take my advice you'll submit, for it has to be done."
Again the cold, cruel tone made him shiver, but the bully in Wyck's nature reasserted itself as he shouted:
"You won't. You won't, for I'll shoot you, you hound," and he levelled a revolver he had taken from his pocket at Reg's head.
Reg laughed a hard, unnatural laugh, as he sprang forward and, knocking his arm up, planted a blow well between his eyes. The bullet lodged harmlessly in the ceiling and Wyck lay in a heap on the floor.
"Come, doctor," cried Reg, as between them they hauled the struggling man to a sofa. Reg smothered his cries, and a few minutes later he was under chloroform. Reg's stern determination acted like a spell on his assistants and swiftly all the accessories for the operation were brought. A small block was placed under each ear; Reg firmly held the die upon the piece of flesh, and with a single blow from a mallet calmly branded the device on each ear. Then he handed his victim over to the doctor to dress the wounds and, giving a deep sigh, sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. A wave of relief that his task was accomplished, that his oath was fulfilled, passed over him. Pity for his victim he had none, only satisfaction that an act of stern, pitiless justice had been done. When the doctor had finished his bandaging Reg straightened himself.
"We'd better keep him a week here to give the wounds a chance to heal," said Hal.
"Yes, it would be as well to do so," said the doctor. "When the bleeding stops I will dress them so that they heal quickly."
"I wonder what he'll do now," said Reg.
"Probably give us in charge," laughed Hal.
"Let him do so, I'm agreeable. At any rate we will stop in Melbourne to give him a chance."