"Don't take your eye off him, Peter. Put your knife into him if he moves. Now then, Hans."
Yorke moved along the hall to a door standing open leading to the kitchen. There was a passage with an open door at the other end.
"Who is the visitor, Mike?" a man's voice asked as he came along, Hans treading lightly behind him. "Of course you sent him away?"
"Not exactly," Yorke replied, as he and Hans walked into the kitchen with their rifles ready for action.
A girl gave a slight scream of alarm, while the men leapt to their feet, and then stood immovable as the rifles were pointed at their heads.
"You are my prisoners," Yorke said sternly to them, "and if either of you moves, he is a dead man. Hans, take the fellow on the right; put your rifle by my side."
"Turn round," he said to the man, "and put your hands behind you."
The fellow did as he was told, and after both were securely tied up, Yorke said:
"Now, take your rifle again, Hans, and shoot either of them if they try to unloose their ropes.