“You would not hurt me, Skip,” she said; “you know you wouldn’t.”
“No, not I”—again he shook her—“but if you would jug us all, you know the penalty.”
“What do you mean?”
“That you have betrayed us to that demon, Nick Carter. You grow pale.”
“It is a lie!” she exclaimed.
The ruffian threw her to the floor, and picking up a bludgeon, he lifted it and was about to strike.
“When you were on the point of death, I nursed you,” moaned the girl. “Oh, have pity on me!”
Her words arrested the villain’s arm.
“I have thought over all that,” Skip Brodie said.
“And you will have mercy?”