“Reade,” he hissed, “you must know the proper signature for tonight for the operator at Brewster’s to use.”
“Nothing doing,” grunted Tom.
“Give us that signature the right one for Brewster’s.”
“Nothing doing,” Tom repeated.
“Put a pistol muzzle to his ear and see his memory brighten,” snarled the scoundrel.
One of the hard-looking men behind Tom obeyed. Reade, it must be confessed, shivered slightly when he felt the cold touch of steel behind his ear.
“Give us the proper signature!” insisted ’Gene.
“Nothing doing,” Tom insisted.
“Give us the right signature, or take the consequences!”
“I can’t give it to you,” Tom replied steadily. “I don’t know the signature.”