Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; Missing persons -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
I listened for a moment, and sudden panic took me by the throat, for
the room was alive all around me. There were faint rustling sounds
from two or three directions, though I could not place them exactly in
the now complete darkness. And I knew instinctively that I had walked
into a trap. But before I could make any plan I was blinking in a
glare of light and looking into the muzzle of a revolver, in the
steady hand of Vining. A quick glance, as my hands went up, revealed
two other men, one on either side, closing in on me. Vining laughed at
my expression.
“This is kind of you, Clayton,” he drawled at last. “And no mask on
this time. Well, well, truss him up, you fellows, and I’ll whistle for
the car.” He addressed me again: “My poor friend, this kind of thing
is really not in your line. Why, you made no better showing than the
redoubtable Moore, here.”
I glanced aside and behind him. Against the farther wall, bound and
gagged, lay Moore.
Chapter XII
Disaster!
I stood motionless, my hands above my head, staring at Moore and
taking in the situation. Then I became aware that Vining was speaking
again.
“Wait a minute,” he was saying. “You, Felix, whistle for the car from
the window there, while I keep this fool covered.” Then he went on to
me: “You thought you’d mix yourself up with something that didn’t
concern you, didn’t you? Well, you’re going to get your fill of that
before we’re through with you. I had already made arrangements to
dispose of you, my dear Clayton, but when we took your friend Moore
into custody, I happened to find his note to you, and I added a word
or two myself, as I thought it as well to dispose of you both at the
same time. Your efforts to interest yourself in us were amusing for a
while. But they have gone far enough.”
I paid no particular attention to this tirade. One of the other men
had been struggling with the rusty fastenings of the window, and now
he got it up and stuck his head out and whistled. I glanced toward
Moore. He had twisted his head so that he could see me, and as I
caught his eye he contrived to signal with his head for me to get out.
His generosity was the last straw. On a sudden my rage boiled over and
I went completely berserk. Vining’s second companion, a thin,
dark-visaged fellow, stood almost beside me, and I dropped my hands,
swung round to him and let him have it on the point of the jaw. He
went down full length, with a crash that shook the house.
Vining gave a shout and started for me, reversing and clubbing his
revolver as he came, while the other fellow, who had just drawn his
head in the window, ran forward, crouched and flung himself at my
legs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account