Slim waited, taking in the details of the tableau, weighing Garth's words and manner, studying Nora's collapsed figure and its proximity to Garth's.
"You're bluffing, Simmons," he said at last. "I'm after facts now. Toss up your hands."
He raised his revolver, aiming at Garth's body. Nora gave a little cry. Garth laughed.
"You don't quite understand," he answered slowly, "and you're usually so observant, Slim. Look around. The safe is open behind us. Your bullets would clip through Nora and me into those sacks of army destroyers. What then? So you won't be surprised when I take my hands down."
He lowered them. He took his own revolver from his pocket.
"But," he went on, "there's nothing behind you but a steel wall, and if one of you comes a step closer I'll shoot."
The four gathered together, whispering, inaudibly to Garth; but this tense grouping, this excited council warned him of their only possible answer.
"If you try to rush me," he cried, "or if you try to get out of the room, I'll turn the revolver on the safe and blow the whole lot of us to powder in this pleasant steel shell."
Slim turned, white-faced.
"You wouldn't have the nerve," he said. "After all, you're a bull."