The man groaned. "Enough, Monsieur."
Rowland straightened and released his wrists.
"There's about a million francs between his shoulder blades. Come, roll over a bit, Monsieur. The steel floor will be more comfortable."
Khodkine obeyed as Rowland relinquished the pressure, while Tanya stood dumb and motionless, as though the difficulties of their situation had driven her to her wit's ends.
"Let me--let me up, Monsieur," groaned Khodkine.
"Why? So that you can try to murder me again? Hardly. You've broken another Golden Bough----"
"And you--you have vanquished me," muttered Khodkine. "Kill me--or let me go."
Rowland chuckled. "Either alternative is pleasant to me--but one is dangerous."
"I am--am unarmed--also hurt," said Khodkine. "What harm can I do? You--you are stronger than I----"
"No. Merely more in earnest." As the flash-light wavered a moment in Tanya's hands it fell for a second on the rack of rifles. "Ah, Mademoiselle, I have it. If you'll give me the light," said Rowland calmly. And wondering, she handed it to him. "Now, if you please, take a rifle there and load. The clips, I see, are upon the shelf."