Grady obeyed with an ugly scowl, and the watch and chain landed in the dust at the ruffian’s feet.
“Now, your employer’s purse.”
“In the breast pocket of my vest, Grady.”
“Look lively.”
Grady dove into Nick’s vest and drew out his pocketbook.
Nick still sat with his hands in the air, but not for a moment did his eyes leave those of the highwayman.
Though at first inclined to send Grady into his hip pocket after his revolver, Nick realized that the Irishman might not be quick and accurate in using it, and also that the crook was alert to their every move. The hazard was too great to be taken, and Nick decided to submit to the situation for the time being, and watch for an opportunity to turn the tables on the rascal.
Grady drew out the pocketbook, which contained about a hundred dollars and a few unimportant papers.
“Toss it into the road,” commanded the highwayman.
“Let it go, Grady,” said Nick.