“And if I refuse?”
Dangle lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly.
“Mr. Cheyne, if you refuse you will never see Miss Merrill alive!”
Chapter XII.
In the Enemy’s Lair
With some difficulty Cheyne overcame a sudden urge to leap at his companion’s throat.
“You infernal scoundrel!” he cried thickly. “Injure a hair of Miss Merrill’s head and you and your confounded friends will hang! I’ll go to Scotland Yard. Do you think I mind about myself?”
Dangle gave a cheery smile.
“Right, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered Lid “by all means. Just do go to Scotland Yard and make your complaint. And what are you going to tell them? That Miss Merrill is in the hands of a dangerous gang of ruffians, and must be rescued immediately? And the present address of this gang is—?” He looked quizzically at the other. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid Scotland Yard would be too slow for you. You see, my friends are waiting for a telephone message from me. If that is not received or if it is unsatisfactory—well, don’t let us discuss unpleasant topics, but Miss Merrill will be very, very sorry.”
Cheyne choked with rage, but for the moment he found himself unable to reply. That he was being bluffed he had no doubt, and in any other circumstances he would have taken a stronger line. But where Joan Merrill was concerned he could run no risks. It was evident that she really was in the power of the gang. Dangle could not possibly have known about the throwing of the tracing over the wall unless he really had found her as he had described.
A very short cogitation convinced Cheyne that these people had him in their toils. Application to Scotland Yard would be useless. No doubt the police could find the conspirators, but they could not find them in time. So far as retaliation or a constructive policy was concerned, he saw that he was down and out.