"I'm very nervous to-night, and a blow on the head might make me worse." "Nothing could make you worse," growled, Duff, turning on his heel, "and only death could improve you." "Then I'm distinctly opposed to the up-lift," grinned Tom, but Duff had disappeared into a darker part of the cellar and the young engineer could not tell whether or not his shaft had reached its mark.
"Ye wouldn't be so fresh if ye had a good idea of what ye're up against to-night," warned the bully with the gun.
"I fancy a good many of us would tone down if we could look ahead for three whole days," Tom suggested.
Other steps were now heard on the stairs.

The newcomers remained outside the illuminated part of the cellar until still others arrived.
"Now, gentlemen," proposed the voice of Jim Duff, "suppose we have a look at the troublemaker." "They can't mean me," Tom hinted to his immediate captor.
"Shut up!" came the surly answer.
Fully a dozen men now moved forward.

With the single exception of Duff, each had a cloth, with eye-holes, tied in place over his face.
"My, but this looks delightfully mysterious!" chuckled Tom.
"You be still, boy, except when you answer something that calls for a reply," ordered Jim Duff, who had dropped all of the surface polish of manner that he usually employed.

"This meeting need not last long, and I'll do most of the talking." "Won't these other gentlemen present be allowed to do some of the talking ?" the young engineer inquired.
"They don't want to," Duff explained gruffly.

"That might lead to their being recognized." "Oh, that's the game ?" mused Tom Reade aloud.