“I won’t, though!” said Van Nesten. He was surprised at his own quiet, firm tones. “I won’t, though!” he repeated.
The silence then was electrical. The two men, tense as steel, stood glaring at each other.
“You won’t!” The burglar’s attitude seemed to be more tense. “You won’t!”
“I would—to save my life,” said Van Nesten, “but it’s not necessary. If you kill me you’ll have murder as well as house-breaking to answer for—besides being no nearer to getting the safe open. And it might make a noise,” he added.
The burglar stood for an unpleasant, concentrated moment, and then he seemed to grow a little less intense. He relaxed and uttered a curse.
“Throw up your hands!” he snapped.
“I’ll do that,” said Van Nesten, and he did.
The burglar put down his lantern and produced from his pocket a piece of stout cord. He leaped into a chair. “Come here!” he said, with vicious curtness. “Backwards!”
Van Nesten, turning about, endeavored to comply.
“Hands together!” said the burglar, when he had him satisfactorily stationed. Van Nesten’s hands came together; and the burglar rapidly wound round and round them at the wrists with an end of his cord. The cold nozzle of his revolver pressed lightly against Van Nesten’s neck.