Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/259

 what constitutes burglary. Not that burglary, in itself, is not one of the fine arts—far from that. Simply, at the moment, I don’t think I care for any expert instruction⸺”

“Aw, close yer trap!” snapped Horseface, “before I lets dishere gat go off, carelesslike. Sit down dere on de bed, both a’ yer, an’ don’t make no suspicious moves, neither; I’m a nervous guy, an’ when I gits nervous I presses triggers.”

Val and Eddie sat down as requested.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” inquired Val, politely; he appeared calm, even in good spirits, the while Eddie sat next to him raging inwardly at the childish stupidity of having been trapped so easily.

“We’re just havin’ a little visit wid yer, that’s all,” said the Rat. “We likes yer comp’ny, see! Us an’ youse, we’ll just have one a’ dem dere feast a’ reasons an’ flow a’ souls, dat’s what. Chawmed t’ meetcha, ’msure,” he mocked, waving careless circles in the air with his ugly blue black automatic.

“I trust we’re not keeping you awake?” inquired Val courteously. “Because if you’d care to go to sleep⸺”

“Naw, dat’s a’ ri’,” said Rat. “We is just as li’ble ter put youse ter sleep, if it comes ter dat.”

Val rose. “If it’s all the same to you⸺”

“Sit down!” snapped Rat, his gun barrel becoming steady instantly.

Val sat down. “What do you intend to do about it?” asked Val. Next to him sat Eddie, his eyes black and hard, his mouth a single straight line. He was almost burning up with rage.

“About wot?” queried Horseface. “Youse? Oh, dat’s a’ ri’, kid,” he assured him. “De boss’ll be here