“I stumbled on the stairway not fifteen minutes ago,” Blake answered. “Twisted my ankle. May I ask why I am honored with a visit at this hour?”
“You know why I am here!” Mr. Parker retorted, reaching to switch on a living room light.
“Indeed, I don’t.” Deliberately Blake moved away from the bridge lamp into the shadow, but not before both Penny and her father had noted a long, ugly scratch across his cheek.
“It’s no use to pretend,” Mr. Parker said sharply. “I have all the evidence I need to convict you of being a ringleader of the Hoods.”
“You are quite mad,” the real estate man sneered. “Parker, I’ve put up with you and your methods quite long enough. You queered my deal with the Orphans’ Camp Board. Now you accuse me of being a member of a disreputable organization. You must be out of your mind.”
“You’ve always been a good talker, Blake, but this time it will get you nowhere. My reporters were at the Hubell Tower. I have a complete sound record of what transpired there. Either give yourself up, or the police will take you by force.”
“So you’ve notified the police?”
“I have.”
“In that case—” Blake’s smile was tight. With a dextrousness which caught Penny and her father completely off guard, he whipped a revolver from beneath his dressing robe. “In that case,” he completed, “we’ll handle it this way. Raise your hands, if you please.”
“Your politeness quite overpowers me,” the editor said sarcastically, as he obeyed.