Myra drew the revolver and presented it at him.
“Put up your hands, Mr. Hilderman,” she said, with a calmness that astonished herself, “and tell me what you have done with Ronnie—Mr. Ewart.”
“I must admit you’ve caught me, Miss McLeod!” Hilderman replied. “I can only assure you that your fiancé is safe.”
“Where is he?” Myra asked.
“He is quite close at hand,” Hilderman assured her, “and quite safe. What do you want me to do?”
“You must set him free at once,” said Myra quietly.
“And if I refuse?”
“I shall shoot you and anyone else who comes near me.”
“Now look here, Miss McLeod,” said Hilderman, “I may be prepared to come to terms with you. If you shot me and half a dozen others it would not help you to find Mr. Ewart. On the other hand, it would be awkward for us to have a lot of shooting going on, and I have no wish to harm Mr. Ewart. If I produce him, and allow you two to go away, are you prepared to swear to me that you will neither of you breathe a word of anything you may know to any living soul for forty-eight hours? I think I can trust you.”