The leader of the gamblers rose, fixing his gaze on Tom's eyes and trying to stare the young engineer out of countenance.
"What do you mean, Reade ?" he demanded.
"Isn't my meaning clear enough ?" Tom insisted, with a chilly smile.
"Man, haven't you come to your senses yet ?" snarled the gambler.
"Do you mean to ask whether I was scared by the cowardly, unsigned letter that I received this evening ?" Tom fired back at the fellow, with another taunting smile.
"I don't know anything about any letter," muttered the gambler sullenly, "but I heard that you had come to your senses." "Whether I have or not," retorted Tom, "you are pretty sure to come to your proper senses to-night.

Men---I mean workmen, not gamblers or bootleggers---you are at liberty to pass out of this building." "Don't you go," shouted the gambler, as some two dozen men started toward the doorway where Harry and the rest were on guard.
Some of them halted.
"I must have made a mistake in calling some of you 'men,' since you take orders from such disreputable characters as these gamblers and bootleggers," Tom taunted them mildly.

"Now, all I will say is that those of you who wish to do so may pass outside.

The rest may remain here, though they'll be sorry, afterwards, that they stayed.

All who want to get outside must do so at once." "Don't you do anything of the sort," shouted the gamblers' leader.