Duff, with rapidly returning consciousness, now leaped to his feet,
drawing his pistol and springing at Reade.

"Hold on!" Tom proposed coolly. "You're too late!"

The sudden flooding of light into the place and the rush of hobnailed
shoes on the stairs recalled even the gambler's scattered senses.

"There they are!" yelled a voice. "Grab 'em! Be careful you don't hit
Mr. Reade."

In another instant the cellar was the center of a wild scene. Railway
laborers flooded the little place. While some held dark lanterns that
threw a bright glow over the scene, others leaped upon the masked ones,
tearing the cloths from their faces.

"Serve 'em hot!" roared the same rough voice.

"Stop!" commanded Tom Reade, leaping forward where the light was
brightest and into the thick of the struggling mass of humanity.

"Stop, I tell you!"

His commands fell upon deaf ears. It was impossible to restrain these
men.

Here and there the lately masked men drew pistols, though not one of
them had a chance to use his weapon ere it was wrested from him.

Pound! slam! bang! A medley of falling blows filled the air, nor was it