"Every second counts. I would suggest that we go somewhere."
"Just a minute!" snapped Crane. "Dick, what shall we do with this murderer?"
Seaton had forgotten DuQuesne utterly in the joy of holding his sweetheart in his arms, but at his friend's words, he faced about and his face grew stern.
"By rights, we ought to chuck him back into his own tub and let him go to the devil," he said savagely, doubling his fists and turning swiftly.
"No, no, Dick," remonstrated Dorothy, seizing his arm. "He treated us very well, and saved my life once. Anyway, you mustn't kill him."
"No, I suppose not," grudgingly assented her lover, "and I won't, either, unless he gives me at least half an excuse."
"We might iron him to a post?" suggested Crane, doubtfully.
"I think there's a better way," replied Seaton. "He may be able to work his way. His brain hits on all twelve, and he's strong as a bull. Our chance of getting back isn't a certainty, as you know." He turned to DuQuesne.
"I've heard that your word is good."
"It has never been broken."