# The Whisper on the Stair/Chapter 19

There was little else Val could do, besides “think it over pretty carefully” while Ignace Teck was gone. He could see all of the room from the couch on which he lay, and he inspected it carefully. It was an ordinary bedroom. At one end of the room, at a blank wall, was a walnut bed. On the other blank wall, opposite the only window, was the couch. At the south end was the door leading into the living room, where he could hear the guard addressed as Rat stirring occasionally. Near that end of the room was a small table.
There was no entrance to the room but the door, and Rat was outside that, though Val was grateful that he did not choose to sit in the same room with him. He reflected that probably the other cared as little for his company as he cared for that of the Rat. The window was just an ordinary window, with no fire-escape outside it. It provided no mode of ready entrance or egress that Val could see. The window was closed its full length, though not locked, as Val could see from where he lay. There was no reason for locking it, evidently.
Next Val gave his attention to the cord that bound him. He found little here that was of any comfort to him. He was bound tightly, and it took very little time ​for him to discover that he would not be able to undo his bonds. The cords were on for keeps, and Val imagined that they would stay on until somebody took them off. He was helpless on the couch, with his hands bound behind his back and his feet closely tied. There was no hope there.
As time dragged on he grew thirstier and thirstier. His tongue and throat began to feel furry, and though he would have enjoyed breakfast, yet would he have appreciated a drink still more. Perhaps the guard in the next room—
“Hey, Rat,” he called.
The big form of the tough bulked in the doorway.
“Whatcher want?” he growled at Val.
“I’m awfully thirsty—would you be good enough to get me a glass of water?” Perhaps the guard had not been told that he was to receive no sustenance of any sort.
“Better make it champagne, young fellow,” suggested Rat with heavy sarcasm. “You got just as much chanct of gettin’ dat, see!” He spread his right hand flat, indicating that the interview, insofar as he was concerned, was finished.
“It might be worth your while. Rat,” insinuated Val. “I’m not mentioning any names, but if anybody around here gives me a helping hand so that I can get out, why, that man won’t have to do any work for the rest of the year.” He looked at Rat significantly.
It did not work. The other shook his head vigorously.
“I don’t never work, anyway,” he growled. “An’ don’t run away wit’ no idea that anybody around here’ll give you a lift. Me, I’d like to bump you off, myself, after that there bash on th’ dome you gimme ​last night. If I had my way, I’d knock yer fer a row a’ red, white an’ blue barber poles, git me?”
Val nodded. “I think I perceive what you’re trying to tell me, rat face,” said Val. “You mean that you won’t give me a drink of water, don’t you?”
“Dead right, kid,” exclaimed the guard. “An’ don’t try that bribe stuff on me or anyone around here agen. I might git insulted an’ pop yer one on th’ bean, see!”
“Is it possible?” retorted Val.
“Don’t git sarcastical, young feller,” said Rat. “You’ll soon find out if it’s possible to insult me, if yer keep it up. I’m goin’ out, now an’ I don’t want to be bothered. If I have to come in agen to yer, I’ll put yer where ya kin hear the boidies sing.”
With dignity he withdrew.
Val had to smile, in spite of his disappointment. That little sally of his last night had really done him a great deal of harm, he reflected. It had earned him the enmity of his guards, who, under ordinary circumstances, might have been amenable to a bribe.
As for Teck, he was not afraid of him, nor of his threats, for the simple reason that he did not think that even he would dare to carry them into execution. It is one thing to threaten to kill a man, and it is still another to proceed to carry out said threat in cold blood. Not that he did not think Teck capable of murder; far from that. But he did think that the project was too dangerous, even for Teck. For that reason he resolved to stick it out. Teck would bring pressure to bear—he was sure of that—but he was also sure that Teck would stop at murder.
It was easy to see why Teck wanted him out of the way. In the first place, he was a disturbing element in an affair that was going the way Teck wanted it to go, ​until he entered. With Val in the ring, Miss Pomeroy was able to put up a stiffer resistance to the importunities of the handless one. It was plain that she did not wish to marry Teck; it was also plain that she was afraid of him. It was fear, in addition to her feeling of gratitude to the man, that had led her to promise that she would marry him, Val decided.
And then there was the money. Evidently Teck had a shrewd idea as to its approximate whereabouts. Alone he would be able to hunt for it at his leisure; finding it, he would be in a masterful position as regards Miss Pomeroy. He could see already that the lady was taking far more interest in Val than the occasion—to him—seemed to warrant. Val was a dangerous rival and must be put out of the running. Hence his present position.
But Valentine Morley had no intention of being put out of the running. He intended to force the pace, and once free from his present predicament—and he did not doubt that he would get free, of course—he intended to put Teck in his proper place. He might not have been in a position to take any such action previously, but now that the mask had been flung away and Teck had come out openly as being desirous of his extinction, Val considered he had authority to take action in his own right; this he intended to do.
In the meantime, his greatest need was to get out of this room; to get away from the power of this man. Val was free to admit to himself that at the moment he did not see how this was to be accomplished. Alone he seemed to be powerless to do anything.
Now, if only Eddie Hughes had any idea of his whereabouts . . . if, say, Eddie became alarmed about his absence, there would be a chance. Eddie was a very ​canny citizen; one who could put two and two together and get the correct answer in addition most of the time. If it occurred to Eddie that there was anything strange in his employer’s absence—and such a thought was bound to occur to Eddie, because Valentine Morley was not in the habit of staying out in this manner—why, then there might be something doing, Val thought.
And then there was Jessica Pomeroy! Where was she? He had gathered from Teck’s conversation that she had gone away somewhere. As he had seen her last night, he was rather under the impression that if she had indeed gone away in such haste, she had not done so of her own volition. That she knew anything of his present plight he indignantly rejected. Of course, the message he had received had purported to come from her, but he knew she was ignorant of the entire matter. He knew now that it was nothing but a ruse on the part of Teck—a simple ruse which he should have watched for, he told himself—it was so obvious.
And indeed, had anybody but Jessica Pomeroy been involved, he would have been on his guard, because Valentine Morley was not the guileless young man that this chronicle has perhaps led observers to believe. But where Jessica Pomeroy was concerned all ordinary rules went by the board. Val simply lost his head when he thought about her—and there had, to him, been nothing strange in the fact that she should send for him in the middle of the night. Why not? He had told her to send for him if she needed him—and if she needed him in the middle of the night why, that was the time to send for him. It was all simple enough.
But where would she go in such haste? That was the point to be decided, because by now he was firmly of the opinion that she needed him to protect her. If ​she had not gone of her own volition, but had been forced, she surely needed him. Anyway, he was going to decide where she had gone, and he would follow on the chance that she would be glad to see him. It was worth while for him to try, because there was the chance of his being near her. That would be enough for him—just to be somewhere where Jessica Pomeroy was; where he could see her and drink in the wine of her presence. That last phrase was his, and he was a little proud of it. The wine of her presence! Truly, it ran trippingly off the tongue.
It was about noon when Val reached these conclusions, and true to his promise Teck returned. He was not in good humor—Val could see that. Val improved the shining moment.
“How about a drink, Iggy?” he asked innocuously.
“Have you decided to promise what I asked of you?” inquired Teck in his turn. Val shook his head.
“Then don’t worry about a drink, because you’ll need one still worse where you’re going from here,” Teck promised him blackly.
“The latest authorities agree that there is no hell, except as one makes it for oneself on this earth,” said Val. “I am a little surprised to see that you still believe in that obsolete place. It was a fiction invented for those⸺”
“Well, unless you do what I ask you’re going to find out pretty soon whether or not there is a hell,” answered Teck. “I’m not inclined to stand any more nonsense from you.” He sat down at the table and regarded his prisoner bleakly.
“Got a smoke?” asked Val.
The other nodded. “But not for you, my friend,” he said. He pressed his wrist to his vest pocket and a ​thin silver cigarette case leaped out. He opened it dexterously by pushing the catch, holding the case between his two wrists as he did so. It was one of the kind of cases that hold the cigarettes upright in the middle. All he had to do now was to bend his head and grasp one of the white paper rolls between his lips. Next he pressed the opposite vest pocket and a thin lighter leaped out.
The cap opened as Teck pressed the button on the side, shooting a thin blade of flame toward him. He lighted his cigarette and closed the lighter. For a moment he said nothing, inhaling the smoke luxuriously.
“Very clever,” commented Val.
“You learn to do things for yourself after awhile,” remarked Teck. “Now, about this promise⸺”
“How do you know that I’ll keep my promise, anyway?”
“Oh, you will. I know your kind,” Teck assured him.
“I know, Iggy, but a promise obtained under duress is not valid, anyway,” Val protested.
“I’ll take my chance on that,” said Teck. He knew he was safe in that regard; Val was one of the class to whom a promise is a sacred thing, and Teck knew it. He was taking no chances, really, he considered.
“I want a definite answer from you, Morley,” announced Teck. “I’m leaving town this evening, and before I go you will have promised what I asked you, or you will no longer be in a position to promise anything. And don’t console yourself with the idea that I’m bluffing—because if you call my bluff you won’t be here to find out whether you were right or wrong. You know what I’m referring to,” he said meaningly.
“Don’t you know it’s bad form to end a sentence ​with a preposition, Iggy. Where were you brung up, anyway?” Val inquired lightly.
“Never mind my grammar,” growled Teck. “I’d sooner make grammatical mistakes and be alive than be perfect—and dead.”
“What pleasant ideas you have,” remarked Val.
“I’m going out and I won’t return until this evening. I’ll look in then just to see whether you are ready to come across—and if you’re not, why, I’ll continue on my way—after handing you over to the tender mercies of Rat and O’Hara. And they’re not squeamish, either, I can assure you of that. And another thing⸺”
“Good by, Iggy,” Val interrupted him, wriggling so that he was turned to the wall.
The other regarded him evilly for a moment, turned on his heel and went out.