“Not a sound!” the fiend said smoothly. “The first action of this admirable dose is complete paralysis of the vocal chords and the tongue. Really, O’Brien, it might be worse. It would be if I did not feel that caution is most necessary. There is no pain until the last. Only about half an hour, O’Brien. Sorry to cut you off, man, but you should not have chosen such a profession.” He turned to Brown. “Come on!” he said, then as an afterthought to the three assassins, “Don’t drink any of that stuff. You want all the wits you have. Good-bye, O’Brien!”
CHAPTER IX
As Smith and Brown closed the door gently behind them, the four men listened to the receding footsteps, then the three turned with one impulse and stared at the man lying bound and gagged on the cot. Although they studied him curiously, they found not a sign of flinching or of fear in the bright, steady eyes that looked at them over the bandage. Instead, he wriggled his shoulders in a derisive way.
“I must say,” said the man who had lost at cards, “this job is not at all to my taste. I have killed before, but to bump a man off in cold blood and sit around waiting for it to come three o’clock to do it, I don’t relish!”
“No other way out,” said the short man. “Smith fixed that when he told him everything he knew. Now we can’t let him go and save our own skins. He is too wise. I don’t care, anyhow. Let him pass along! What’s it to us?” He stared insolently at O’Brien, and the eyes smiled at him.
The third man, who had not spoken, shivered a little. “Let’s have a drink,” he suggested, going over to the table.
The fallen plaster puffed up under his feet as he went.
“You know Mr. Smith forbade it,” said one of the others.
“I don’t care!” said the first speaker. “How is he to know whether we have a drink or not? He was afraid of us getting full.” He held up the bottle. “There is only enough for three good drinks in there, and I am cold.” Again he looked at O’Brien and shivered. It was evident that the job of killing did not appeal to his taste. O’Brien held his eyes with a wild, revengeful look. Then again he moved his shoulders.
“What’s the matter with him?” demanded the man. “Do you want to talk?”