"Give me that!" he demanded violently.

Ledermann obeyed.

The Wolf turned to him.

"Now, Ledermann, no fooling here; turn in all your accounts.
Destroy everything that could give a clew to us. Pack the bombs
in the vault under the cellar floor. We may come back some day,
when we land with our men on the shores of Long Island." He
turned away. "Go and pack. We must be away from here before
dawn."

Ledermann shrugged his shoulders, looked curiously at Asa, then
turned and left the room.

The Wolf got up, threw a few things in a small suit-case,
arranged some papers, took off his coat, and stood looking at
Asa. Directly behind him, against the wall, was a large,
old-fashioned wardrobe. Its dark, heavy, walnut doors threw the
lean, muscular figure of the Wolf out as though carved in
granite. He took a step toward the boy, and rolled up his
sleeves.

"Now, young man, I'll attend to you," he said.

Hope died in Asa's heart.