Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/144

132 being at his ease. He tried to conceal this, I could see, by an extra dose of professional pomposity.

"They're getting restless—restless," he announced in a warning whisper.

I caught sight of Miss Ledwidge's face as she glanced at him. It flashed through me that this calm-eyed young woman had no love for that big-boned hulk of a conspirator. Why it was, I could not tell. They were certainly both in the same game. But some sixth sense kept whispering to me that she disliked the man, that she distrusted him, although she couldn't afford to show her real feelings.

"I don't see how we're going to hold 'em down there much longer," he repeated in his warning whisper.

I noticed the nurse and the old weasel exchange glances.

"Well, we're ready for 'em!" retorted the old scoundrel, with a snap of the jaws.