"My dear Morris, really I don't know. I always thought he was a straight chap."
"Tommy, you're a liar. You do know, so out with it."
"But I've sworn not to divulge," almost whined Tommy.
"Then you refuse," said Reg, placing pen, ink and paper before Tommy, and producing a revolver from his pocket. Then he quietly placed his watch on the table in front of him, and said:
"There are pen and paper. If you want to write to your friends, do so, for you have five minutes to live."
This was too much for Tommy. All his dapper gaiety had disappeared. His clothes seemed to hang loosely on his limbs, and a perspiration broke out on his forehead. All his self-control vanished, and he fell abjectly on his knees and cried out for mercy.
"Get up, you lying scoundrel," said Reg. "What mercy did you or he show."
"I'll tell you all, Morris. I'll tell you all," gasped his victim.
"Then get up and do so at once, for you have but three minutes."
"What do you want to know?"