Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/174

 Val. “I haven’t changed my mind. Your mother must certainly have loved children, to bring you up,” he said irrelevantly. He had made up his mind to stick it out to the last minute, and evidently this was not yet the last minute. He still had an hour with Rat and O’Hara. Although he had made up his mind to break any promise he might make to Teck, yet he shrank from making any promise at all until there was absolutely no way out of it. Only in that way could he reconcile the thing with his inconvenient conscience.

Teck flushed, the scar on his cheek glowing redly against his face.

“Is that final?” he asked needlessly. He knew that, so far as he was concerned, it was final.

“It’s damned final,” said Val. “Can’t you understand English?”

Teck hesitated for a brief moment, his greenish eyes shining evilly at Val. Then his moment of hesitation was over. His decision was made. He turned to the door.

“Rat! O’Hara!” he called.

These two worthies appeared promptly.

“I have to get along, boys. Give this man an hour more to promise to do what I want. If he promises, let him go. If not⸺” he accompanied this with a meaningful look, pregnant with wickedness—“you know.”

“All right, boss,” replied O’Hara. “We gotcha.”

“I’m off [sic], said Teck, and the three withdrew to the next room without a backward look at their quarry. There they had a whispered conversation of which Val could make out nothing except one phrase—“Old Point Comfort.” This he heard repeated several times.

He decided that probably Teck was on his way down