"I am unable to do that."
"Then you refuse?"
"She isn't here—she hasn't been here since she went back to Patchogue."
"Is she there now?"
"No."
"Where is she—speak up Villard! I am in a dangerous mood."
"I refuse to answer," replied the old time friend and employer of Parkins.
"I'll give you one minute, and if you have not answered by that time I shall give you a 'third degree' with the butt of this gun."
All during the time that Parkins held his watch in hand Villard sat motionless and without protest. A minute seems long when one counts the slow seconds, but short, indeed, when one gives no heed.
"Last call—one—two—three—that's the way your Updyke man counted the seconds for me—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—time's up—here goes," and with that Parkins, his eyes staring, jumped to his feet and struck Villard on the back of his head in the manner he had warned.