"There's no need to do this, Lam—"
Kestner's cry was shut off by the towel with the tightened knot being dexterously tossed over his head and drawn taut, so taut that the pressure of the knot on his lips became unendurable. Involuntarily the jaws relaxed, to relieve the pain.
"Tighter!" commanded Lambert. The band, now against the slightly parted teeth, was tightened and securely knotted at the back of the captive's head.
It was then that the man designated as the Governor stepped quietly back and closed the door which he had left partly open. Then he stood in silent thought for a moment or two.
It was the girl in the tip-tilted hat who spoke first.
"What's the matter with givin' him a crack on the coco?" she gravely volunteered. "Put 'im to sleep until we're dead sure of a get-away?"
The man called the Governor did not seem to hear her.
"Tony," he suddenly said with a crisp and incisive authority, "take that gun from Cherry. Now hand me that automatic. Keep that man covered. If anything happens, plug him where he sits. If any one tries to get in here, plug him first,—him first, remember. Cherry, you frisk him! I want everything, everything, mind you, out of his pockets."
The girl, with a small frown of intentness, bent over the heavy oak fauteuil and went through Kestner's pockets, one at a time. The man called the Governor stood in deep thought as she did so.
As she placed the fruits of her search upon the drawing-table to the left the older man stepped over
