He did not wait for a reply. It mattered very little as to what Larmon said or did now, anyhow—Larmon's exit was barred by three men! He walked up the length of the low-ceiled, evil-smelling place, and with a key which he took from his pocket unlocked a door at the farther end. As he stepped through the door his revolver was in his hand.
He laughed in an ugly way, as John Bruce rose from the mattress and faced him.
“Salt is a great thing, isn't it?” he jeered. He drew from his pocket the slip of paper he had cut from the bottom of the letter, and held it so that John Bruce could see it. Then he put it back in his pocket again. “Understand? He got the rest of the letter, all right; and so he has come down to pay you a little visit. He's outside there now.”
John Bruce made no answer.
Crang laughed again.
“You thought you'd double-cross me, did you? You poor fool! Well, it's a showdown now. I'm going to bring him in here—and let you tell him what he's up against. I guess you can convince him. He's got less than an hour in which to come across—if you are going to sail on that steamer. If you don't make yourself useful to that extent, you go out—for keeps; and Larmon stays here until he antes up—or rots! Is that quite clear?”
John Bruce's lips scarcely moved.
“Yes; it is quite clear,” he said.
“I thought it would be!” snarled Crang—and backed out through the door.