“Hands up!”
When they in turn had rounded the corner they found the secretary covering with his shot-gun an unattractive stranger. The reddish hair, the ugly mouth, made worse by a ragged and untidy moustache, the peculiar vulpine expression, and the flashy clothes, all combined to produce a bad impression even at the first glance. As he stood, hands in air, in front of Stenness’s gun, his eyes wandered from one face to another with something of the expression of a rat at bay.
“Run over this fellow, Torrance,” said the secretary. “He may be armed.”
Howard searched the man methodically and extracted from one pocket a heavy automatic pistol. Beyond that, the man had no other weapon.
“See if it’s been fired,” suggested Stenness.
“Fully loaded, and hasn’t been fired,” Howard reported.
“Good! Now, my man, how do you come to be here?”
“I was rowing on the river; and as I was coming near here, I heard someone yelling blue murder, so I came up. What would you have done, eh? Kept away, I expect. Then I came inside this monkey-puzzle to give a hand. And I’ve stuck here ever since. That satisfy you?”
“Nothing to do with me. The police will be here shortly. You can explain to them. Meanwhile, you’ll come along with us. Skene, take charge of this fellow. If he tries to run, empty your gun into his legs. Now come along.”
Again taking the van, Stenness continued on his way, and in a very short time he brought them to one of the centres of the Maze.