CHAPTER SIX
A GHASTLY TRUTH
Ere I could recover myself or utter a word, the pair dashed towards me, seized my hands deftly and secured them behind the chair.
“What do you mean by this, you infernal blackguards!” I cried angrily. “Release me!”
They only grinned in triumph. I struggled to free my right hand, in order to get at my revolver. But it was held far too securely.
I saw that I had been cleverly entrapped!
The man with the pimply face placed his hand within my breast pocket and took therefrom its contents with such confidence that it appeared certain I had been watched while writing the cheque. He selected it from among my letters and papers, and, opening it, said in a tone of satisfaction—
“That’s all right—as far as it goes. But we must have another thousand.”
“You’ll have nothing from me,” I replied, sitting there powerless, yet defiant. “I don’t believe Marlowe has been here at all! It’s only a trap, and I’ve fallen into it!”