The millionaire’s glance was angry as he opened the door of the cabin. Baldridge held his ground.
Waddell pressed his hand against the fellow’s shoulder. Motkin’s henchman did not budge.
“I should like to see that trunk,” he said coldly.
“Get out!” cried Waddell, now thoroughly enraged by the man’s actions.
Instead of obeying, the man pulled a revolver from his pocket. He thrust it toward Waddell, expecting to intimidate the old man. The action drove Waddell into a sudden fury. He gripped the man’s wrist, turning his hand away. With a wild fling, he hurled Baldridge to the floor.
Despite his age, Tobias Waddell was a fighter. He was heavy and portly, but could use his weight to unusual advantage. He sprawled his opponent upon the floor, and began to drive his fists against the other’s head. Baldridge had dropped the gun. Waddell suddenly seized it and clambered to his feet.
In his rage, he would probably have shot the man dead. But a noise from the corridor turned his attention in that direction. He turned to face a wicked-looking rascal who was covering him with another revolver.
It was Solinski, Motkin’s second henchman.
“You— you—”
Waddell spluttered as he recognized the man’s face. The gun he had aimed at the first of Motkin’s henchmen now turned itself against this second intruder.