Ellis Benton ground his teeth, but he dared not move.
“Lay those knives down on the floor carefully,” said Nick. “Don’t make any noise or I’ll make a louder one.”
The two villains obeyed, Benton with hatred and chagrin visible in every movement, the negro with the alacrity of perfect submission.
Of Pete, at least, Nick felt sure. The man was an arrant coward, and Nick’s only wonder was that he had been induced to assist in murder.
Doubtless he had intended to leave the real work to Benton.
“Now hold up your hands,” said Nick.
These directions he gave in a low voice, which could not be heard beyond the limits of the apartment.
“Pete,” he continued, “face round.”
The negro obeyed, turning his back to Nick.
“Now walk straight to the wall and put your face against it. If you look round, you’re a dead man.”