"Well, well!" shouted the chief. "Explain!"
Chester drew a deep breath, and took a haphazard shot:
"My men are ready to seize the entire Belgian staff, at a moment's
notice, sir."
The confusion that broke out immediately following his words told Chester
that his shot had missed. But the boy stood his ground. There was nothing
else he could do.
From the opposite side of the room came a cry:
"That was the work assigned to me."
"That is not true," was Chester's quick reply. "I was the man selected
for that work."
The man on the other side of the room made a spring toward Chester, but
he was arrested by the commanding voice of the chief, who now stood up to
his full height, a revolver barrel gleaming in his outstretched hand.
"There is a traitor here," said the chief calmly. "I shall be the one to
decide who it is, for you are all known to me. Unmask!"
Every person in the room save Chester obeyed this command, and for the
fraction of a second he stood alone, his face still covered. But he stood
for a fraction of a second only.
Then with a quick move his revolver leaped from his pocket, and there was
the sound of a shot. The chief toppled over to the floor.
Chester leaped to one side, and with a backward sweep of his left arm
knocked the single lamp from the wall and plunged the room into darkness.
Then he dropped to his knees. And none too soon, for twenty pistols
cracked and as many bullets went hurtling by the spot where he had stood
a moment before.
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