"No? My dear chief, there are in this house the most prominent persons in your fair city. We have with us, also, two diplomats of international fame. I abhor violence, but in such a case as this, it becomes necessary. You will withdraw your men. You will take them to the corner, beneath the electric light, where we can see them plainly. You will keep them there fifteen minutes, and after that you may do as you please."
"I see myself!" the chief cried.
"If you do not, I shall use violence upon those in the house. For every ten minutes we are forced to remain here, I shall take a human life. For every one of my men wounded or slain, I shall take another human life. Think it over, chief!"
The chief did think it over, with Roger Verbeck to aid him. The Black Star was at the end of his rope. Captured again, he was certain to be convicted and sentenced to prison for life. He was the sort who would go out fighting—the sort to do all the harm he could before he went out.
"We're not sure that it's not a bluff!" Verbeck said. "But we can't do as he asks, of course."
"We'll rush the house!" the sheriff declared. "That's our business in a case of this kind, isn't it? We may lose a few men, but it must be done. What else is there to do?"
"We'll have to rush it!" the chief returned. "Our aim is to get inside and fight it out as quickly as possible, without letting that fiend have time to do much damage. I'll give the orders." The chief whispered them to a captain, and he passed them on.
The Black Star was shouting from a window again. "'Well, what is the decision, chief?"
