The biting words explained a mystery to Harry. He had been wondering why his shots had failed to stop his attackers. Now he understood.
“Well,” said Blair Windsor, turning to the others, “what shall we do with him?”
“Bump him off,” said Birdie Crull, tersely.
* * *
Blair hesitated. Evidently he was less brutal than his companions. He seemed to be considering some alternative plan. Finally he shook his head.
“I don’t like to see you do it,” he said. “We’ve managed to get by without murder up to now. Maybe we can make him talk. Perhaps we can fix him to keep him quiet. Murder is bad—”
“You say we’ve done without murder?” inquired Isaac Coffran. “You’re wrong there, Windsor. How about Frank Jarnow?”
Blair Windsor looked puzzled. The old man smiled.
“We didn’t have anything to do with Jarnow,” said Blair. “Henry killed him—”
Isaac Coffran held up a thin hand. He pointed to Birdie Crull, who smiled grimly.