Part 13 (1/2)
”You must think we're blunderers, if you contemplate that!” and he grinned at his companion.
”Now,” he added, turning again to me; ”for the last time I ask you if you will sign this cheque I have written.”
”And for the last time I tell you that you are a pair of blackguards, and that I will do nothing of the sort.”
”Not even if we bring the girl here--to you?”
I hesitated, much puzzled by the strangeness of the att.i.tude of the pair. Their self-confidence was amazing.
”Sign it,” he urged. ”Sign it in your own interests--and in hers.”
”Why in hers?”
”You will see, after you have appended your signature.”
”When I have seen her I will sign,” I replied at last; ”but not before. You seem to have regarded me as a pigeon to pluck. But you'll find out I'm a hawk before you've done with me.”
”I think not,” smiled the cool-mannered Reckitt. ”Even if you are a hawk, you're caged. You must admit that!”
”I shall shout murder, and alarm the police,” I threatened.
”Shout away, my dear fellow,” replied my captor. ”No sound can be heard outside this room. Shriek! We shall like to hear you. You won't have opportunity to do so very much longer.”
”Why?”
”Because refusal will bring upon you a fate more terrible than you have ever imagined,” was the fellow's hard reply. ”We are men of our word, remember! It is not wise to trifle with us.”
”And I am also a man of my word. You cannot obtain money from me by threats.”
”But we offer you a service in return--to bring Sylvia to you.”
”Where is her father?” I demanded.
”You'd better ask her,” replied Forbes, with a grin. ”Sign this, and see her. She is anxious--very anxious to meet you.”
”How do you know that?”
”We know more than you think, Mr. Biddulph,” was the sharper's reply.
His exterior was certainly that of a gentleman, in his well-cut dinner jacket and a fine diamond stud in his s.h.i.+rt.
I could only think that the collapsible chair in which I sat was worked by a lever from outside the room. There was a spy-hole somewhere, at which they could watch the actions of their victims, and take them unawares as I had been taken.
”And now,” asked Reckitt, ”have you fully reflected upon the serious consequences of your refusal to sign this cheque?”
”I have,” was my unwavering reply. ”Do as you will, I refuse to be blackmailed.”
”Your refusal will cause disaster to yourself--and to her! You will share the same fate--a horrible one. She tried to warn you, and you refused to heed her. So you will both experience the same horror.”
”What horror? I have no fear of you,” I said.