Halfway down the span, Ben brought the taxi round with a flourish and climbed out, the other two lifting Stevens between them. Murray looked toward his friend, half expecting him to relent at the last moment, but he motioned them wordlessly on, and they set down their burden at the rail.
"Over with him!" said Ben remorselessly. They bent....
"I give up," said Stevens in a strangely husky voice. Murray and Tholfsen paused.
"Did you hear what I said?" said Ben. "Over with him!"
They heaved. "Stop!" screamed the broker. "For God's sake, I'll give up. I'll go. Oh-h-h!" The last was a scream, as Ben laid a detaining hand on Murray's arm.
"Let him down, boys," he said quietly. "Now listen, Stevens. I don't want to be hard on you—but we've got to have unanimity. You're done. Take a car and clear out. If I let you go now, will you promise to stay away?"
"Yes," said the Wall Street man. "Anything, only for God's sake don't do that!"
"All right," said Ben.
As they were loading the banker in the car for the return trip a thought struck Murray. "By the way, Ben," he remarked, "didn't he nick you with that gun?" "That's right," said Ben, "he did." And gazed down at the long bright scratch in the heavy metal that covered his shoulder joint. It was uninjured.