"Put Ellis here in this window. I'll hold the fort yonder." He pointed across the space to the reference room in the opposite L. "Nine times out of ten a mob don't really—" He stopped abruptly, his face stiffening with surprise, and some other emotion, which Hal for the moment failed to interpret. Following the direction of his glance, the two other men turned. Dr. Surtaine, suave and smiling, was advancing across the floor.
"Ellis, how are you? Good-evening, Dr. Elliot. Ah! Pistols?"
"Yes. Have one?" invited Ellis smoothly.
"I brought one with me." He tugged at his pocket, whence emerged a cheap and shiny weapon. Hal shuddered, recognizing it. It was the revolver which Milly Neal had carried.
"So you've heard?" asked Ellis.
"Ten minutes ago. I haven't any idea it will amount to much, but I thought I ought to be here in case of danger."
Dr. Elliot grunted. Ellis, suggesting that they take a look at the other defense, tactfully led him away, leaving father and son together. They had not seen each other since the Emergency Health Committee meeting. Something of the quack's glossy jauntiness faded out of his bearing as he turned to Hal.
"Boy-ee," he began diffidently, "there's been a pretty bad mistake."
"There's been worse than that," said Hal sadly.
"About Milly Neal. I thought—I thought it was you that got her into trouble."