"I'm going to flash the light," he answered.
"No. I know they are here. I know they are in the room. I hear—"
He snapped the button. The white shaft pierced the darkness. Nora had been right. Slim and three others with ready revolvers were half way across the room. Garth put his finger to his lips.
"Sh—h," he said. "Wait! Don't come any closer."
"What's wrong, Simmons?" Slim whipped out. "Who called? That's George. What—"
"He got fresh with the girl," Garth answered.
Slim waited, taking in the details of the tableau, weighing Garth's words and manner, studying Nora's collapsed figure and its proximity to Garth's.
"You're bluffing, Simmons," he said at last. "I'm after facts now. Toss up your hands."
He raised his revolver, aiming at Garth's body. Nora gave a little cry. Garth laughed.
"You don't quite understand," he answered slowly, "and you're usually so observant, Slim. Look around. The safe is open behind us. Your bullets would clip through Nora and me into those sacks of army destroyers. What then? So you won't be surprised when I take my hands down."
He lowered them. He took his own revolver from his pocket.
"But," he went on, "there's nothing behind you but a steel wall, and if one of you comes a step closer I'll shoot."
