"That you shall see in good time," cried the other triumphantly. "Constitutional methods have failed—and, besides, we've got no time to wait for them. Millions are groaning under the intolerable bonds of the capitalist: those millions we shall free, to a life that is worthy of a man. And it will all be due to our leader—Carl Peterson."
A look of rapt adoration came into his face, and the American laughed in genuine delight.
"Didn't I tell you, Captain, that that guy was the goods?" But there was no answering smile on Hugh's face.
"He's the goods right enough," he answered grimly. "But what worries me is how to stop their delivery."
At that moment Darrell's voice came up from the hall.
"The whole bunch are stowed away, Hugh. What's the next item?" Hugh walked to the top of the stairs.
"Bring 'em both below," he cried over his shoulder, as he went down. A grin spread over his face as he saw half a dozen familiar faces in the hall, and he hailed them cheerily.
"Like old times, boys," he laughed. "Where's the driver of the lorry?"
"That's me, sir." One of the men stepped forward. "My mate's outside."
"Good!" said Hugh. "Take your bus ten miles from here: then drop that crowd one by one on the road as you go along. You can take it from me that none of 'em will say anything about it, even when they wake up. Then take her back to your garage; I'll see you later."
