"Perhaps you won't," he admitted. "But I'll be in the rear lounge with every male passenger within my sight. One of them is bound to break down when he knows he's at the end of the trail."
"So?"
"I'll jerk the emergency cord," Blake said. "Set your brakes the minute you hear it. O'Toole, it's a long chance but we've got to take it."
"One more thing," O'Toole asked. "Blake, who in hell is the leader of the Silver Masks?"
Blake hesitated, his face darkening. He opened the door and pushed O'Toole out gently.
"If I'm not mistaken," he whispered evenly, "Walter Ferrell knows more about this than he's telling."
The gang of Silver Masks were gathered around the front end of Mono 6 as Holly O'Toole and Jeff Blake emerged from Harror's office. They walked swiftly toward the cab, and Slater who had evidently been waiting, stepped from the crowd and came toward them.
"How about it?" He addressed Holly O'Toole, as O'Toole seemed to be leading Blake. "Everything has been stripped from the baggage cars. She's ready for her trip into the lake."
"Okay!" O'Toole mumbled. He turned to Blake. "Take two men and get all the passengers into the lounge car."