Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/193

 head as he whirled and saw Val sitting next to him. Something of what he thought showed in his eyes, evidently, because Val regarded him with scarcely concealed amusement.

“I’m not—er—in your way, Iggy, or anything like that, I hope,” he suggested. “Because if I am⸺”

“But I thought you were⸺”

“Iggy, I must deny that I have been killed. No matter how it pains me to have to say it, I am alive; I am forced to the conclusion that something must have happened to upset your plans. I wonder what it could have been?” Val spoke confidentially, almost apologetically.

The other regarded him in resentful silence for a few moments. Evidently he was not dead. Val read his thoughts.

“No,” he shook his head. “I did not promise anything, either. I am sort of free lancing in treasure trove, to tell you the truth, Iggy.” He opened his cigarette case and lighted a cigarette for himself.

“To show you I’m more generous with my cigarettes than you are, Iggy,” he said, and popped a cigarette between the parted lips of Teck. He held a light to the cigarette. Teck nodded his thanks.

“To what do I owe the honor of your company?” asked Teck, courteously, having by now recovered his composure.

“To the fact that Horseface has an awful headache by now—where my man’s gun walloped him. Also to the fact that you were too stingy to put a quarter into the gas meter. You do things on too small a scale, Iggy. I hate to have to criticize a man’s business, but that’s what’s the trouble with you—you’re a piker. Now, a quarter more or less wouldn’t really have done