Darby Meeker growled an answer.
“You know what we're here for.”
“You have broken into a respectable house like a band of robbers,” I cried. “What do you want?”
“You know what we want, Mr. Wilton,” was the surly answer. “Give us the boy and we won't touch you.”
“And if not?”
There was silence for a few moments.
“What are you waiting for?” growled a voice from beyond the turn of the hall.
At the sound I thrilled to the inmost fiber. Was it not the growl of the Wolf? Could I be mistaken in those tones? I listened eagerly for another word that might put it beyond doubt.
“Well, are you going to give him up?” asked the hoarse voice of Meeker.
“There has got to be some better reason for it than your demand,” I suggested.