"What time is it?" asked Hal calmly.
"I can't see as it makes any difference to you," said Duval, with an evil leer. "You are not going any place. However, I'll tell you. It is now just ten minutes past eight."
Hal did not reply, and proceeded to finish his sandwich.
Finally, all the food having disappeared, Duval pushed back his chair and produced three cigars, one of which he offered to Hal and the other to his lieutenant.
"I don't smoke," said Hal; "thanks all the same."
"Suit yourself," replied Duval. "However, you may as well make yourself comfortable while we enjoy our cigars."
He puffed luxuriously, as did the other.
Hal also leaned back in his chair. He chafed under this restraint, but he realized that it would be foolish to make an effort to escape under the very mouths of his two captors' guns. Nevertheless, he was ready to take advantage of the first opportunity that should offer itself.
But none came.
Duval and his lieutenant, having disposed of their cigars, arose. The former, poking the muzzle of his revolver close to Hal's head, said sharply: