Still he remained there, dazed and stricken, pallid as milk, a wild and terrible light in his blue eyes.
An ugly murmur rose.

Two or three of his fellow-workmen had come drifting down the shop, toward the scene of altercation.

Another joined them, and another.

Not one of them but hated Herzog with a bitter animosity.

And now perhaps, the time was come to pay a score or two.
But Armstrong, suddenly lifting his head, faced them all, his comrades.
His mind, quick-acting, had realized that, now his possession of the book had been discovered, his chances of discovering anything more, at the works, had utterly vanished.