Runnells' hand went to his side pocket—but as it came out again with his revolver Captain Francis Newcombe's hand closed upon it like a vise, and with a quick twist and wrench secured the weapon.
"What—what did you do that for?" Runnells stammered in a low, startled way. "Didn't you hear that in under the boathouse? There's some one there. Maybe it's him."
Captain Francis Newcombe laughed now—aloud.
"So you think there's some one in under there, do you, Runnells?" he drawled.
"Yes," said Runnells, and drew away a little. "You heard it just the same as I did, but—but I don't understand what you—"
"You will in a minute!" Captain Francis Newcombe's voice was still a drawl. "But meanwhile we'll see whether you're right or not. You don't mind going first, do you, Runnells?" His revolver muzzle was suddenly pressed against the small of Runnells' back. "I've known you to be a bit tricky at times. Go on!"
Something like a whimper came from Runnells. He stood irresolute.
"Go on! In under there! We'll see this 'some one' of yours first of all!" Captain Francis Newcombe's voice snapped now. "Move!"
A push from the revolver muzzle sent Runnells forward.
"What—what are you doing this to me for?" the man burst out in a shaken voice again.