Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/192



you had conceived and put into execution a fine, holeproof, artistic little murder. Then, full of professional pride at the artistic and workmanlike features of the masterpiece, suppose you were sitting in a Pullman smoking room, relaxed from your labors, and more or less at peace with the world. Then suppose you had turned around suddenly and seen the supposed corpse, not decently dead, as any self-respecting corpse ought to be, but very much alive and full of pep, sitting down next to you.

Suppose these things had happened to you—how would you feel? You would probably experience a wave of resentment against said live cadaver, to say nothing of overwhelming shocked surprise, wouldn’t you? That’s just the way Ignace Teck felt about it when he turned and saw the substantial—even pleasant—figure of Valentine Morley easing itself into a seat next to him.

This was not one of Ignace Teck’s important murders, of course. Just a little gem he had thrown off in an idle moment, before proceeding to the greater work at hand. Nevertheless, it was exasperating for a (prospective) murderer to so far interfere with the workings of art as to refuse to be assassinated—nay, even to follow Teck and mock him by the mere fact of his presence.

These are the thoughts that passed through Teck’s Rh