“Got a cigarette?”
“Cigarette.” The guard smacked his lips. “I’m crazy for one but you’ve got your crust asking for one. The general says that we are liable to blow up the ship, as it is full of hydrogen gas. In fact, if he should catch you smoking I’d hate to be in your shoes.”
Michael leaned negligently against the wall, and the guard lowered his gun and turned half around. He was startled by a noise at the door. He whirled but was too late. Epworth and Billy landed on his back like a pile of brick, and Epworth’s hand closed over his mouth and throat.
Struggling fiercely the guard dropped his gun. Michael picked it up with a chuckle, and slammed him on the head. The blow partially stunned him and Epworth and Billy dragged him into Joan’s room, and with a bedspread stripped into cords bound him. The second they released his throat he sent up a loud shout for help.
“Take it easy,” Epworth advised, shoving the gun against his side. “If there is any talking to be done Michael will do it.”
Michael did. Toplinsky heard the shouts and came running. When he got to Joan’s room he found Michael on the outside acting as the guard.
“What is the matter here?” the general demanded harshly.
Michael saluted.
“They must be killing our comrade in there,” he responded somewhat indifferently. “He has been howling loud enough to raise the dead.”
“Why do you not look inside?”