Chapter Twenty Two.
Defiance Proves Defence.
I had, I confess, allowed my anger to rise above my gorge. That action of mine in attacking Kirk was both ill-timed and very injudicious, for in an instant—before even those frantic words had left my lips—I found myself looking down the ugly black barrel of a big Browning revolver, that most effective and deadly of all man-killing weapons.
“Kindly release me, Holford,” he said, rather hoarsely and with some difficulty, as my muscular fingers had closed upon his scraggy throat. “Come, this is all very foolish! Let me go! I have no desire to harm you,” he added, quite calmly.
“Then tell me where I can find my wife,” I repeated.
“I would—if I could.”
“Tell me who can!” I demanded fiercely, my fingers still closed upon his throat, so that he breathed only with great difficulty.
“Give me time—time to make—inquiry!” he gasped. “I’ve only just returned, and am in ignorance of a great deal of what has transpired.”
“Upon your own admission, Mabel has fallen a victim of a plot merely because I became too active and too inquisitive. You feared lest I might discover something.”
“I have admitted nothing, my dear sir!” he cried. “One day you will withdraw all these malicious words—mark me,” he added, in a hard voice, lowering his weapon and replacing it in his hip-pocket as I released my convulsive grip.