Knocked senseless, the victim would have fallen to the floor, but his persecutor was not through with him. Jacques groaned piteously, as, helpless, he heard the blow fall, and felt sure that the master was killed.
"Shut up, you vassal, over there!" shouted Parkins, now frenzied as he chafed Villard's hands and stretched out his arms. Not effecting results, he bent the limp body over the desk and pushed the chair closely up to it. Then he ran to the tray that Jacques had put on the floor, and seized the glass of water that stood on it. This he dashed into Villard's face and slowly the huge body responded. A minute went by before he opened his eyes and tried to stagger to his feet, but Parkins, remorseless, shoved him back in the chair.
"Wake up and talk—where is she?"
Only a moaning sound gave answer.
"You old cradle robber, why don't you speak up in defense of yourself. It was all right for you to love her, but for me it was a crime! I always treated her right, until you put false notions in her head. When I finally rose out of a sick bed and got her back into my care, where she belonged, your big Wall Street hireling set his dogs loose and they finally ran me down."
"I'll go to my bed," said Villard, trying to rise from his seat.
"You'll stay where you are and die in that chair if you make a move to leave it! Where is the girl you stole!" he shouted, his eyes flaming with hate.
At that moment the far door opened and the faces of Santzi and Jerry came into view. One glance, and they yelled as if stricken with nightmare, then ran out and shouted to the watchman.
By the time they returned Parkins had flown.