Again Liane's whisper: "What shall we do?"
Lanyard considered: "We can't keep them out . . . may as well let them in."
"But you said you wouldn't give yourself up—"
"No more do I mean to."
The knuckles of authority drummed on for a moment. When they ceased Lanyard was hailed right cheerily: "I say, Mr. Duchemin wake up, let me in! It's I, Dr. Bright. Don't you hear me?"
"But Michael!" the whisper implored him—"you can't stand off the whole ship!"
"Why did you bring me that pistol, then?"
"Not in anticipation of anything like this—"
"Don't worry: I shan't use it. I've a better plan. I count on you: stand by to draw the bolt when I give the word."
Lanyard watched the dim shape of Liane fall back to the door. Bright was yapping with a Judas tongue, bidding him open in the sacred name of fellowship. With the thick enunciation of one just wakened from the deep sweet sleep of an innocent Lanyard responded: "Half a minute! What's the row?" Then more quietly—"Ready, Liane?"