Brettison shrugged his shoulders, and moved toward the table.
“Stop!” cried Stratton firmly. “What are you going to do?”
“Give him the money,” said Brettison. “You see; we must.”
“Fetch the police,” repeated Stratton. “I cannot leave you and go myself.”
“But the man is armed,” said Brettison. “My dear boy, he is desperate.”
“I tell you, I will protect you, man. Now, come on.”
He took a step forward, and the ex-convict gave a fierce tug to draw his weapon, but stopped, for Brettison seized his friend, and held him back.
“The pistol! Mind!” he cried.
“He has no pistol,” roared Stratton, dragging himself free; and, seizing the man by the collar with both hands, he flung him aside. “Now, then, the police at once.”
Brettison rushed to the door; but stopped short to gaze in wonder at the group before him.