ver that. Much better clear
out before any mischief's done, and own up you've made a mistake."

White turned on the man with a sudden fury. "If you don't keep
your silly mouth shut, I'll have you throttled," he threatened,
and after that the only noise that broke the silence was the
_tap--taptap--taptapping_ of the telegraph instrument.

Only two men in that darkened room knew what message was being
dispatched, and these were White and the dispossessed operator. The one
worked with cool, steady industry, and the other listened with strained
intentness. Sheriff was outside the door keeping guard on the rest of
the house. But Kettle, from his station behind the operator's chair,
listened with a strange disquietude. He had been told that the object of
the raid was to arrange a stock exchange robbery, and to this he had
tacitly agreed. According to his narrow creed (as gathered from the
South Shields chapel) none but rogues and thieves dealt in stocks and
shares, and if these chose to rob one another, an honest man might well
look on non-interferent. But what guarantee had he that this robbery was
not planned to draw plunder from the outside public as well? The pledged
word of Mr. White. And that was worth? He smiled disdainfully when he
thought of the slenderness of its value.

_Tap--taptap--tap--tap--taptap_, said the tantalizing instrument, going
steadily on with its hidden speech.

The stifling heat of the room seemed to get more oppressive. The mystery
of the thing beat against Kettle's brain.

Of course he could not read the deposed operator's thoughts, though he
could see easily that the man was reading the messages which White was
so glibly sending off. But it was clear that the man's agitation was
growing; growing, too, out of all proportion to the coolness he had
shown when his room was first invaded. At last an exclamation was forced
from him, almost, as it seemed, involuntarily. "Oh, you ghastly
scoundrel," he murmured, and on that Kettle spoke. He could not stand
the mystery any longer.

"Tell me," he said, "exactly what message that man's sending."

"But I forbid you to do any such thing," said White, and reached for his
revolver. But before his fingers touched it, he looked up and saw
Kettle's weapon covering him.

"You put that down," came the crisp order, and White obeyed it nervously
enough.

"And now go and stand in the middle of the room till I give you leave to
shift."

White did this also.