“If he tries any tricks,” he declared, “I’ll let him have a taste of this where Nellie wore the beads.”
Tucker glanced around at all of those grotesque figures and then twisted his face into a comical look of disgust and resignation.
“Give me the goose quill,” he said. “Here goes my Thomas J. right at the bottom of this lying mess.”
Being a very little chap, Tommy wrote, like most undersized persons, in a large, bold, flourishing hand. In a moment he had dashed off his signature.
“There’s my John Hancock,” he said. “I hope you can see it.”
The leader took the paper with a nod of satisfaction.
“So far everything is satisfactory to us,” he chuckled, folding the document and thrusting it into a pocket.
“So far?” murmured Tommy questioningly. “Well, I wonder how much farther you’re going? Isn’t this about the limit?”
Satan made a gesture, and in another instant the captive was once more seized and pinned fast to the chair.
“Here! here!” he spluttered, in disgust. “What the dickens are you up to now?”