Crang studied the revolver in his hand for a moment. He looked up finally with a smile that was hideous in its malignancy.
“I'm not sure that I particularly care,” he said. “You are going to get out of my path in any case, though my personal inclination is to snuff you out, and”—his voice rose suddenly—“damn you, I'd like to see you dead; but on the other hand, my business sense tells me that I'd be better off with, say, a hundred thousand dollars in my pocket. Do you get the idea, my dear Mr. Bruce? I am sure you do. And as your medical advisor, for your health is still very much involved, I would strongly urge you to write the letter. But at the same time I want to be perfectly frank with you. There is a tail to it as far as you are concerned. I have a passage in my pocket—a first-class passage, in fact a stateroom where you can be secured so that I may make certain you do not leave the ship prematurely at the dock—for South America, on a steamer sailing to-morrow afternoon. The passage is made out in the name of John Bruce.”
“You seem to have taken it for granted that I would agree to your proposal,” said John Bruce pleasantly.
“I have,” Crang answered shortly. “I give you credit in some respects for not being altogether a fool.”
“In other words,” said John Bruce, still pleasantly, “if I will trap Mr. Larmon into coming here so that you will have him in your power, and can hold him until you have squeezed out of him what you consider the fair amount he should pay as blackmail, or do away with him perhaps, if he is obstinate, I am to go free and sail for South America to-morrow afternoon; failing this, I am to snuff out—I think you called it—at the hands of either yourself or this gentlemanly looking band of apaches you have gathered around you.”
“You haven't made any mistake so far!” said Crang evenly. He jerked his hand toward the table. “It's that piece of paper there, or your hide.”
“Yes,” said John Bruce slowly. He stared for an instant, set-faced, into Crang's eyes. “Well, then, go ahead!”
Crang's eyes narrowed.
“You mean,” his voice was hoarse with menace, “you mean——”
“Yes!” said John Bruce tersely. “My hide!”