"Now you, listen," he addressed the man beneath him. "We could tie you up and lay you away to pickle until you died for the lack of whatever you need, or we could turn you over to Beeville to cut up as a specimen, and by God," glaring with a kind of suppressed fury, "I wouldn't hesitate to do it! You're jeopardizing the safety of the whole community."
The grim face beneath him showed neither fear nor contrition. He hesitated a moment.
"If I let you go and give you a car and a couple of batteries, will you promise to clear out and never come back?"
Stevens laughed shortly. "Do you think you can bluff me? No."
"All right, Tholfsen, get his feet first," said Ben, as the chess-player reappeared with a length of light-cord he had wrenched from somewhere. The feet kicked energetically, but the task was accomplished and the arms secured likewise. "You watch him," said Ben, "while I get a car around."
"What are you going to do?" asked Vanderschoof, speaking for the first time since the scuffle.
"Throw him in the river!" declared Ben, with ruthless emphasis. "Let him get out of that." Stevens took this statement with a calm smile that showed not the slightest trace of strain.
"But you can't do that," protested the steamship man. "It's—it's inhuman."
"Bring him outside boys," said Ben, without deigning to reply to this protest, and clanged out to the car.
They lifted the helpless man into the back seat, and with a man on either side of him, started for Queensboro Bridge. The journey was accomplished in a dead silence.