The eyes of the secretary shifted wildly. He hesitated, moistening dry lips with the tip of a nervous tongue.
"And don't try to get out of it, Mr. Blensop, because I am armed and don't mean to let you escape. Besides, that good Mr. Stone patrols the garden." Lanyard's tone changed to one of command. "That pen, monsieur!"
Blensop's hand faltered to his waistcoat pocket, hesitated, withdrew, and feebly extended the pen.
"I think you are the devil," he stammered in an under-tone—"the devil himself!"
Deftly unscrewing the pen-point, Lanyard inverted the barrel above the desk.
The cylinder of paper dropped out.
"And now, Colonel Stanistreet, if you will call Mr. Stone and have this traitor removed…."
XXIII
AMNESTY
When Stanistreet had gone out in company with Stone, and the broken, weeping Blensop, ending a scene indescribably painful, a lull almost as uncomfortable to Lanyard ensued.