Will you do it?"
The request was more like a command. Lockwood said nothing, but
moved toward the porte-cochere, where he had left his car parked
just aside from the broad driveway.
"Walter, you will stay here," ordered Kennedy. "Let no one leave.
If any one comes, don't let him get away. We shan't be gone long."
I sat awkwardly enough, scarcely speaking a word, as Kennedy
dashed down to the railroad station. Neither Alfonso nor his
mother betrayed either by word or action a hint of what was
passing in their minds. Somehow, though I did not understand it, I
felt that Lockwood might square himself. But I could not help
feeling that these two might very possibly be at the bottom of
almost anything.
It was with some relief that I heard the car approaching again. I
had no idea what Kennedy was after, whether it was dynamite or
whether he contemplated a trip to New York. I was surprised to see
him, with Lockwood, hurrying up the steps to the porch, each with
a huge tank studded with bolts like a boiler.
"There," ordered Craig, "set the oxygen there," as he placed his
own tank on the opposite side. "That watchman thought I was
bluffing when I said I'd get an order from the company, if I had
to wake up the president of the road.
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