It was Ben Thurston himself who led the way for his swarm of myrmidons.
He began without formality; his tone was coarse and rude.
“We want the outlaw, Dick Willoughby. We know he is here. So make no fuss. Deliver him over.”
Mrs. Darlington had risen to her feet, and Munson, too, had sprung erect.
“What do you mean?” asked the lady with quiet dignity.
“You know darned well what I mean.”
Munson stepped forward, but he played the game best by keeping himself under perfect control.
“You will speak civilly, Mr. Thurston, or leave this house. What is wanted?” he added, turning to Leach Sharkey.
“We want Dick Willoughby, of course,” the sleuth replied, politely enough. “We have reason to believe he is here.”
“Well, you can see for yourself whether he is here or not,” said Munson, glancing around. “But if you wish to look through the house, I don’t suppose Mrs. Darlington will refuse you permission.”