Never was fashionable St. Thomas’s so crowded, so brilliant, so athrill with the thrill that comes only with a long expected wedding in high places. Every seat in the large church was filled and the crowd stood five deep behind the last expensive pew.
Nervous, but adorable in his shy nervousness, Valentine Morley waited at the altar, his best man a little to one side of him. His heart leaped within him, but there was a scared feeling also that he had never experienced in France.
There was a great burst of music and the thrill of young voices leaping upwards to the vaulted roof, as Jessica Pomeroy and her retinue appeared at the head of the aisle. Stately the music became, and slow, and the procession started down the aisle.
A burst of gladness, a desire to shout in his joy, coursed through Val as he watched the bewildering picture of the girl who was to be Mrs. Valentine Morley, a girl and yet a woman as she glided down the aisle in solemn time to the music. The procession halted at the altar, and a slight perspiration broke out over Val when it occurred to him that perhaps his best man had forgotten the ring.
“Steady, old boy,” came the reassuring voice of the best man in his ear. “The filly’ll wait; don’t be afraid. No false starts, now.”
He nodded slightly, strengthened by the well known voice. He heard little more that was understandable, though a great deal was said. At last he discovered that the minister was saying:
“Do you, Valentine, take this woman to be your lawful wife?”
“There was a hush in the great church as all eyes turned toward Valentine Morley. He tried to answer, but something stuck in his throat; suddenly his throat and mouth were drier than they had ever been.
“Say yes, you dumbbell!” grated the voice of his best man, softly. “This is no time to change your mind.”
Val gulped again, a light perspiration bedewing his brow.
With an extreme effort he spoke.
“I do!” he rasped hoarsely.
“You do what?” inquired a voice in front of him, and he turned to discover the sinister figure of Ignace Teck. The dream vanished instantly.
There was a gasp of disappointment as he discovered that there was no wedding; that he was lying on a couch in a very uncomfortable position, staring up at the huge figure of the handless one.
“Go to hell!” he rasped at Teck, annoyed. The change was too great to accept all at once. He stared at Teck a little curiously, half expecting him to dissolve, to disappear like the figures of his dream. But Ignace Teck was doing no disappearing this day—this was his day to appear, not to disappear. He was an apparition, but flesh and blood apparition.
“Ah, your usual courteous self,” came the suave voice of Teck.
Val tried to sit up, and found that it was difficult. He needed no glance at his limbs to discover that he was bound hand and foot.
“Stay the way you are,” suggested Teck. “You’ll find it more comfortable lying down.”
Val glanced at as much of the room as he could see. It was a well furnished bedroom, with a couch at the side on which he was lying. Through the open door he could see a living room which he recognized.
He was in Ignace Teck’s apartment.
“To what am I indebted for the honor you pay me,” he inquired of Teck carelessly.
Teck dismissed it with a wave of his stump. “It’s nothing—a little game of my own, you know. No trouble to me, I assure you.”
“H-m-m! I suppose not,” said Val dryly. “I might have known you would figure somewhere in this, Iggy.”
“My name is Ignace—preferably Mister Teck to you,” put in Teck, with dignity.
“Ah yes, Iggy, you are perfectly right. But why be so formal among friends?” bantered Val. “And, by the way, these cords of yours are hurting my wrists, you know.”
“Indeed?” put in Teck politely.
“And, although I can’t feel it, I suspect I have a rather large bump on my head,” continued Val.
“Indeed you have,” Teck assured him. “And you can thank your stars that you still have your head, my lad. If I had followed my own inclinations in the matter . . .” he paused significantly, but there was no mistaking the meaning of his glance at Val.
“What pleasant ideas you have, Iggy,” admired Val. “I must say that must have been a man’s-sized bump on the bean you handed me, Iggy⸺”
“I?” expostulated the other. “How could I, with nothing but these—these⸺” he said no more, but exhibited his handless wrists. “You flatter me, my friend.”
“I don’t know how you did it—but I guess you have your methods,” suggested Val. “Excellent and efficient ones, I imagine, too.
The other nodded, smiling a trifle. He was in great good humor with himself at the moment. Things were going right. His enemy had been delivered—with a bit of help on his own part—into his hands. He was in a position to draw his teeth—or render his information valueless. He could afford to be a trifle amused and self-satisfied.
“I am glad to hear that you recognize the efficiency of my methods. You realize, perhaps, that I get what I go after. In fact, I might say I never fail,” he told Val, who watched him curiously. “I have never failed,” he repeated impressively.
“So?” queried Val nonchalantly. “Ah, well, people die to-day who never died before.”
The other smiled. “Don’t delude yourself. If there’s any dying to be done around here, my lad, it isn’t going to be me.” He paused and looked at him significantly, his meaning plain. There was something fearsome about this man, in spite of his assumed pleasant manner, his finely modulated tones. There was an underlying threat in every syllable, in every lithe move of his big body, in every glance of his greenish tinged eyes. On his lips a well-bred smile became a leer and a pleasant word veiled a curse. Val was supremely conscious of the fact that here was a man who would stop at nothing to attain his end, whatever that was. Here was a man to whom no villainy was too great if thereby he might achieve that which he desired.
It roused a streak of unreasoning obstinacy in Val, an obstinacy that had often won over his better and more sensible instincts. He was rich; he was young; he was presentable; women liked him; headwaiters adored him; his own way had been accorded to him as a matter of course, and it rasped on him to find that here was another man who insisted on having his own way, and who usually had it. Well, they would see.
“Just what do you propose to do with me?” he asked. “What is it you wish from me, that you should go to all this trouble⸺”
“I’ll tell you, my friend,” put in Teck. “I want your word that you will withdraw from this—er—this affair—you know what I mean—and stay withdrawn. I want you to promise that you will not attempt to communicate with Miss Pomeroy in any way—that you will not continue your acquaintance with her; an acquaintance, by the way, which I warned you would turn out badly for you. You refused to heed the warning and⸺”
“And just look at me now,” finished Val.
“I also want your word that you will make no mention of anything that has gone before in this affair to any one⸺”
“Not even the police?” mocked Val.
“Not even the police—though I don’t believe you would do that, anyway, because the slightest mention of the matter would bring Miss Pomeroy into the limelight. In a word, I want your promise that you will step out of the lives of myself and Miss Pomeroy at once, and stay stepped out. Have I made myself clear?”
“You have,” answered Val. “Why should I promise any such fool thing—and what means have you of forcing me to do it, in case I should refuse?”
“You can promise what I ask because it means that if you do life will be a great deal easier for Miss Pomeroy than it has been since you came into the picture. If you don’t⸺”
“Are you threatening harm to Miss Pomeroy?” grated Val harshly. “By God, if harm comes to her in the slightest way through you I’ll carve your liver out, do you hear me? I’ll take you apart to see what makes you go! Don’t think for a moment that because you have me trussed up here⸺”
“Words, my boy, words. Talk is very economical—doesn’t cost much. You’re not in a position to make any threats, because you’re going to promise me that you’re going to go out of Miss Pomeroy’s life for good.”
“And if I don’t?”
The other looked at him calmly, dispassionately for a moment, seeming to weigh his words.
“If you don’t,” he said at length; “ah, yes, if you don’t, to be sure. Well, if you don’t, you’ll have to be—er—removed, that’s all. You won’t be the first man whose mouth has been sealed by—er—an untimely demise. A pity, too,” he said, shaking his head commiseratingly, “you’re young, and a rather nice looking boy. Really, too nice to have people filing past you and saying sadly, ‘Doesn’t he look natural!’ Now, you’d better be sensible and do what I ask, because I assure you that I’m not bluffing in the slightest⸺”
“Aw, go to hell!” interrupted Val, bad temperedly. “I want to get some sleep.”
“You’ll sleep when I get done with you—perhaps more than you wish,” said Teck. “I want to warn you, too, that you’d better not try to escape, because if you do you’ll be killed instantly. O’Hara!” he called out into the next room.
“Here y’are, boss,” came the answer promptly, and an unshaven, hulking tough came into the room. One of his eyes was wickedly beady and black. Probably the other one was, too, normally. At present it was puffed to unholy proportions, and blue. He had a face like a horse, with a large, coarse looking nose and lips and ears laid well back to his closely cropped head.
“Hello, Horseface,” called Val, cheerily. “Did you attend my little party here earlier in the evening? From the appearance of yon weakly glowing orb, I have me suspicions.”
“Yes, I wuz here—an’ I’ll be here when you’re gone, kid,” answered the one called Horseface.
“Maybe—maybe,” said Val. “In the meantime⸺”
“In the meantime,” said Teck, “I just called him in to show you that you’re covered—that the slightest move to escape on your part means death. What are your orders, O’Hara, if this man tries to escape or to shout?”
“To pump hot lead inta him, that’s all, boss,” said Horseface with satisfaction. “An’ I might add that it will give me pleasure to carry out them there orders, too⸺”
“All right,” interrupted Teck, nodding to the door. The tough withdrew to the next room and took up his silent vigil again.
“Nice, pleasant little playmates you have, Iggy, old thing,” commented Val. “Must be a great intellectual satisfaction⸺”
“Intellectual satisfaction will not mean much to you when you’re saying ‘Hello, St. Peter,’” said Teck, with meaning.
“I say,” said Val, “I’m awfully thirsty—can I have a drink of water?”’ As a matter of fact his tongue and mouth were parched with thirst. He had been a trifle feverish after the blow on the head which he had received, and his throat felt dry as dust. He felt the need of water more than he had ever felt it before.
“Ah, water, to be sure. I’m thirsty myself,” nodded Teck mildly. “O’Hara, bring in a glass of water, will you.”
O’Hara grunted, and in a moment Val heard the sound of running water in the kitchen. In a few moments the horsefaced one brought in an overflowing glass.
“Thanks,” said Teck. He took the glass between his two maimed wrists and held it before him reflectively. “Surprising how badly one wants water when he wants it,” he commented, “isn’t it? Now, take you, for instance, Mr. Morley. You’d probably appreciate this humble glass of water, if I should give it to you, wouldn’t you? You’d⸺”
“Don’t you intend to give it to me?” asked Val.
The other shook his head, mildly surprised. “Give it to you? Why, I’m thirsty myself.” He drained the glass at a gulp and set it on the table. “Ah, that was good,” he wiped his lips. “There’s nothing so good as water when you’re thirsty. Think it over, Mr. Morley—you may be thirstier before you get it.” He rose.
“You dirty hound,” said Val, exasperated. “Do you mean to torture me⸺”
The other looked at him, pained. “Torture you? How can you say so, my dear fellow? I, the kindest hearted of men! Really, you know, it hurts me to have you say such things of me. All you have to do is to promise what I ask—then I’ll give you all the water you want, and your freedom. It isn’t much to ask.”
“I’ll see you in hell first, you snake,” said Val, pleasantly, smiling though his throat felt the need of water now more than before, having seen the relish with which Teck drank his glass. “Did you think it would be as easy as that?”
The other shook his head. “No, I was afraid it would not be as easy as that. However, you may come to your senses yet. In the meantime, I feel the need of a couple of hours sleep myself—it’s almost daylight. When I wake you can tell me your decision.”
“I’m telling it to you now, Iggy,” replied Val. “Nothing doing.”
Teck shook his head again, but said nothing. He threw himself down on the bed and went to sleep immediately.
In a few moments Val was asleep, too.