"Hold on a minute," snarled the masquerading photographer, changing in an instant from a docile creature into an alert, dangerous martinet, "you can't refuse to fall in with my plans now. If you do I shall crush you. You are in my power now."
"Pooh!" scoffed Merritt. "How do you make that out?"
But, though he strove to make his tone easy, there was an under note of anxiety in it.
"How do I make it out? In this way, my friends: If you are false to your promises to me, I shall denounce you to the government authorities. I have witnesses to all that you said this afternoon in my room at the hotel. The man you thought was a waiter was in my employ, and is an anarchist, like myself. That shabby little peddler who came to sell some cheap jewelry was another of the same belief. They heard all you said. Moreover, they saw you accept money from me——"
"But you told us that all you wanted us to do was to get those plans from Ned Strong when he comes along this way from the lieutenant's house to-night," gasped Chance.
"Yes; but I may have other uses for you. Rest assured that you are in a web from which you cannot escape. If you try to play false to me, I will have you sent to the place which Uncle Sam reserves for traitors and spies."
"Oh, well," said Merritt slyly, "we may as well make the best of it. Let's talk business. In the first place, did you bring the disguises?"
Herr Muller, as we must know him, rejoined in the affirmative. "I have them in that old barn," he said.
"Very well. The time is getting along. We had better go up there and assume them. By the way, have you any pistols for us? We couldn't smuggle out our service revolvers."
"Pistols!" scoffed the other. "What do you want pistols for? Are there not three of you against one? And I will be in reserve in case he proves too much for you."