“A man named Foulk—one of the iron squad.”
“Yes, I know him. He is trustworthy, I think.”
“Oh, yes, sir, you can trust him, as far as having anything to do with those thieves is concerned.”
“But that won’t help us much if he can’t keep awake a few hours. Where is he now?”
Charlie hesitated. “I—I tied him up.”
“Bring him here.”
Charlie went off to obey. And Old Van returned to his ablutions. A moment more and the unfortunate sentinel was being marched across to headquarters, under the guidance and the momentum of a huge red hand.
“Here he is, Mr. Vandervelt.”
Young Van looked at the two. Foulk appeared honestly crestfallen. Then, “Let him go, Charlie,” he said. And turning to Foulk, he merely added, “You’ll get your night’s sleep after this, my friend. We want no men on guard who can’t be relied on—and it’s evident that you can’t. Now go and eat your breakfast, and get to work. See that this doesn’t happen again, Charlie.”