“Down below.”
“Bring him to my stateroom. Be quick about it.”
A very few moments more, and Dick and Harper knocked at the special agent's door.
“Come in.”
They entered, and found Beveridge and Wilson together. Beveridge closed the door, and there the four men stood, crowded together in the narrow space. Beveridge gave them another of his sharp glances, then he drew from his coat pockets two revolvers and held them out, one in each hand.
Dick and Pink looked speechless.
“Well, take 'em. You boys are to help me see this thing through, now.”
“Do you—do you mean that?”
“I don't joke with pistols.”
Without more words each reached out. Dick thrust his into his hip pocket; but Pink opened his and looked at the loaded cylinder.