At the end of the minute Gradoff thrust his watch into his pocket.
"Look out, Uncle!" cried Percy.
One of the strangers had whipped out a revolver with extraordinary rapidity and fired point-blank at the motionless figure above. Mr. Pratt did not wince--showed neither fear nor agitation. Slowly unfolding his arms, he stood erect and turned to his nephew.
"Come," he said, "I think it is time we went below."
CHAPTER XXIII
"VI ET ARMIS"
When uncle and nephew regained the lower floor they found that Armstrong had not been idle. From one side of the room he had hauled a long, stout table and set it up endwise against the door, between that and the printing press.
"Capital!" said Mr. Pratt. "You have doubled the thickness of our armour. But, in default of sandbags, we must find something to strengthen our defences still further."
"I had thought of that, sir," said Armstrong. "There's nothing but this bale of paper and the sheets already printed. I think they will pretty well fill the space between the press and the door; if not we can get some of the boxes from below. They are no longer needed there."
"Excellent idea! You young fellows set about that while I keep watch."