"I presume I did—that would have been the natural thing," replied Parkins.
"You really think so—eh? Don't you know that you are lying again? Well, now, you quit that stuff! I wasn't born yesterday," snarled Updyke as his eyes sought those of the man on the witness stand.
"Now I'm going to ask you a question," he continued, "that is going to stagger you!—what were your intentions toward her had you got her safely to New York? Be careful—say nothing but the truth!"
Updyke's steady eyes caused Parkins to shut his own and consider well before answering. How his persecutor could know so much was beyond his power to reckon. But he had to answer. The question was categorical.
"I meant to marry her," he blurted.
"Open your guilty eyes and tell me that again," shouted Updyke, bending over the table where lay the automatic. "It was to be a mock marriage—now wasn't it?—'poor little country maid!' Do you remember your maudlin conversation with yourself in your apartment the morning you were fired out of Dreamy Hollow? Of course you do—and only an act of God saved her from experiencing a try-out of your scheme. You had won her trust, and that of her father, who was to be allowed to 'drift'—wasn't he? Zim's Midnight Inn was a fine place to sup and drink—and tempt! you—scoundrel!—but God saved the girl by upsetting your car—her father is at death's door!"
"Oh, merciful heaven—stop this cruel torment! I am going crazy! I'm——"
But Parkins could go no further. He put his face in his hands and sobbed, while Updyke pulled forth a long black cigar and lighted it. He was "dying" for a smoke, and now was his chance. The stenographers, used as they were to "third degree" work, showed signs of pity for the wretched man on the stand. They watched Updyke, too, and saw him touch a button on the wall near the door. Then they saw him go to a speaking tube and heard him say—"Send him in...."
During the interim Parkins never lifted his head, until he heard the rasping noise of the steel door as it opened and closed. When he raised his eyes to see what was going on, there stood his valet and man of all work, talking with Updyke. They shook hands cordially and stood near the door, talking to each other for several minutes. By that time Parkins, red eyed and sullen, had assumed an air of defiance. His own man had trapped him, and a desire to kill crept into his mind. There lay the automatic—one jump would be sufficient, and it would be "all off" with Updyke! A wonderful chance, and he would take it—but his mind moved slowly. Updyke, standing at the far end of the room, knew his thoughts and laughed at him, mockingly—
"No use, Parkins—it isn't loaded. Here's it's mate," he said, flashing it quickly, "and it's all set for action."