Poissan laughed a hollow laugh.
"Put down your hat and coat, Mistair Kennedy," he hissed. "The
door has been locked ever since you have been here. Those windows
are barred, the telephone wire is cut, and it is three hundred
feet to the street. We shall leave you here when the fumes have
overcome you. Francois and I can stand them up to a point, and
when we reach that point we are going."
Instead of being cowed Kennedy grew bolder, though I, for my
part, felt so weakened that I feared the outcome of a
hand-to-hand encounter with either Poissan or Francois, who
appeared as fresh as if nothing had happened. They were hurriedly
preparing to leave us.
"That would do you no good," Kennedy rejoined, "for we have no
safe full of jewels for you to rob. There are no keys to offices
to be stolen from our pockets. And let me tell you--you are not
the only man in New York who knows the secret of thermite. I have
told the secret to the police, and they are only waiting to find
who destroyed Morowitch's correspondence under the letter 'P' to
apprehend the robber of his safe. Your secret is out."
"Revenge! revenge!" Poissan cried. "I will have revenge.
Francois, bring out the jewels--ha! ha!--here in this bag are the
jewels of Mr. Morowitch. To-night Francois and I will go down by
the back elevator to a secret exit.
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