There was a moment of great suspense—a moment of supreme uncertainty. Then Durant snarled:
“Who shows the white liver now is a traitor! It must be done!”
One of his hands went into the breast of his coat and came out again. His fingers grasped the hilt of a wicked-looking knife.
Other weapons appeared, but Bornier cried again:
“Not here! I have your pledge! Would you break your oath to a comrade?”
Durant’s manner seemed to change somewhat. He thrust aside the knife.
“No,” he snarled, “we will not break the oath, but blood will be shed. That is bound to come, you shall see.”
Frank felt that not another moment could be wasted.
Yet he did not wish to shoot down a woman, and a woman blocked the doorway. His revolvers disappeared, and, with a fierce cry, he leaped at Mademoiselle Mystere.
Hands were thrust out to grasp the boy, and some of them reached him. The woman struck him fair in the face, but he did not mind the blow in the least. He sought to tear himself free, to cast his assailants to the right and left. In the meantime Harvey Wynne suddenly awoke. He lay about him vigorously with his cane, sending one or two fellows reeling. He saw Frank break clear just as the heavy stick had cut a pathway to the door, and, springing through, he shouted: