Part 37 (2/2)
And the plants had repaid her with a riot of blossoms. A breeze set the gray moss to swaying from the branches of the oak. And a green gra.s.shopper crossed the terrace in four great leaps, almost sc.r.a.ping Satan's ear in a fas.h.i.+on which might easily have been fatal to the insect. Val sighed and slipped down lower in his chair. ”It's great,” he murmured again.
”Sure is,” Jeems echoed. He dropped down cross-legged beside Val, disdaining the other chair.
Satan stretched without opening his eyes and yawned, gaping to the fullest extent of his jaws and curling his tongue upward so that it seemed pointed like a snake's. Then he rolled over on his other side and curled up with his paws under his chin. A b.u.mblebee blundered by Val's head on its way to visit the morning-glories. He suddenly discovered it difficult to keep his eyes open.
”Someone's comin',” observed Jeems. ”Ah just heard a car turn in from the road.”
”But the folks have been gone such a short time,” Val protested.
However, the car which came almost noiselessly down the drive was not the one in which the family had departed. It had the shape of a sleek gray beetle, rounded so that it was difficult to tell at first glance the hood from the rear. It glided to a stop before the steps and after a moment four pa.s.sengers disembarked.
Val simply stared, but Jeems got to his feet in one swift movement.
For, coming purposefully up the terrace steps, were four men they had seen before and had very good cause to remember for the rest of their lives.
In the lead strutted the rival, a tight smile rendering his unlovely features yet more disagreeable. Behind him trotted the red-faced counselor who had accompanied him on his first visit. But matching the rival step for step was the ”Boss,” while ”Red” brought up the rear in a tidy fas.h.i.+on.
”Swell place, ain't it?” demanded the rival, taking no notice of Val or Jeems. ”Make yourselves to home, boys; the place is yours.”
Val gripped the arm of his chair. Sam, Rupert, Holmes--they were all beyond call. It was left to him to meet this unbelievable invasion alone. There was a stir beside him. Val glanced up to meet the slightest of rea.s.suring nods from the swamper. Jeems was with him.
”Whatcha gonna do with the joint, Brick?” asked Red, tossing his cigarette down on the flagstones and grinding it to powder with his heel.
”I dunno yet.” The rival strode importantly toward the front door.
”You might tell us when you find out,” Val suggested quietly.
With an exaggerated start of surprise the rival turned toward the boy.
”Oh, so it's you, kid?”
”Perhaps,” Val said softly, ”you had better introduce your friends.
After all, I like to know the names of my guests.”
The Boss smiled sardonically and Red grinned. Only the red-faced lawyer shuffled his feet uneasily and looked from one to another of his companions with an expression of pleading. But the rival came directly to the point.
”Where's that high and mighty brother of yours?” he demanded.
”Mr. Ralestone will doubtless be very glad to see you,” Val evaded, having no desire for the visitors to discover just how slender his resources were. ”Jeems, you might go and tell him that we have visitors.
Go through the Long Hall, it's nearer that way.” He dug the fingernails of his sound hand into the soft wood of the chair arm. Could Jeems interpret that hint? Someone must remove and hide the Luck before these men saw it.
”Right.” The swamper turned on his heel and padded toward the French windows.
”No, you don't!” the rival snarled as he moved into line between Jeems and his objective. ”When we want that guy, we'll hunt him out ourselves.
When we're good and ready!”
”If you don't wish to see my brother, just why did you come?” Val asked feverishly. He must keep them talking there until he had time to think of some way of getting that slender blade of steel into hiding.
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