“And supposing that I gave you the money, how do I know that you would keep faith with me?” I asked.
“We shall keep faith with you, never fear,” Reckitt replied, his sinister face broadening into a smile. “It is simply for you to pay for your release; or we shall hold you here—until you submit. Just your signature, and to-morrow at eleven you are a free man.”
“And if I refuse, what then?” I asked.
“If you refuse—well, I fear that you will ever regret it, that’s all. I can only tell you that it is not wise to refuse. We are not in the habit of being met with refusal—the punishment is too severe.” The man spoke calmly, leaning with his back against the table, the cheque and pen still in his hand.
“And if I sign, you will bring Sylvia here? You will promise me that—upon your word of honour?”
“Yes, we promise you,” was the man’s reply.
“I want to see Marlowe, if he is here.”
“I tell you he’s not here. He’s across the way with her.”
I believe, if I could have got to my revolver at that moment, I should have shot the fellow dead. I bit my lip, and remained silent.