He removed his grip alike of wrist and throat, and Ashton, gasping and panting, felt gingerly of his throat with his soft fingers. He could not see the dark marks left by Blake's terrible clutch, but he could feel the bruises. He glared up, terror-stricken, into the pale hard eyes that blazed down into his own with a light like that of molten steel.
"You—you'll not—not murder me!" he panted.
"I'll break your neck if you don't keep quiet and mind," menaced Blake.
He sprang erect. "Get up to your desk—quick!"
Ashton needed no urging. As lie scrambled around to the chair, Blake picked up the automatic pistol and tested its mechanism with expert swiftness.
"Don't! Don't!" implored Ashton, dodging down.
"Bah! Take that pen—write!" commanded Blake. Ashton clutched at his pen and an order pad. "Steady, you fool! Now write, 'Bridge in danger. Strip bare. Blake in charge.'" Ashton scribbled with frantic swiftness. "Got that? Sign your name in full as Resident Engineer."
The moment Ashton obeyed, Blake reached over and snatched up the order pad and an indelible pencil. In his other hand he thrust out the pistol to press its muzzle against Ashton's temple.
"Oh!—oh!—don't!" whimpered the coward.
"You skunk!" growled Blake. "Keep your mouth shut, or I'll smash you like a rattlesnake. I'm going to save my bridge. Don't get in my way!" He pointed with the pistol toward the rear door of the room. "What's in there?"
"My—my quarters."