He
divined that mere glaring would not shrivel this presumptuous atom. In
truth, Bean outglared him. Breede leaned again to the telephone,
listening. Bean lowered his eyes to the cuffs. He sneered at them now.
The intention of the lifted upper lip was too palpable.
"Gur-reat stars above!" murmured Breede. "She says she's got it all
reasoned out!" There was something almost plaintive in his tones; he
shuddered. Then he rallied bravely once more.
"Tell you, no time nonsense. Busy."
But he seemed to know he was beaten. He listened again, then wilted.
"What next?" he demanded of Bean.
"Ask _her_!"
"Nice mess you got _me_ into!"
Bean sneered resolutely at the cuffs. Again the telephone tinkled.
Breede listened and horror grew on his face.
"Now she's told her mother," he muttered. "My God!"
The transmitter was an excellent one, and Bean caught notes of hysteria.
Julia was fussing back there.
"Now, now!" urged Breede. "No good. Better lie down. She says she's got
it all reasoned _out_, don't I tell you?" He put a throttling hand over
the anguished voice, and looked dumbly at Bean. He noted the evil sneer
and traced it to the cuffs. Slowly he hung up the receiver and took one
of the cuffs in his hands.
"Wha's matter these cuffs?" he demanded with a show of his true spirit.
"Right enough. Cuffs all right, if you like that kind. But why don't you
wear 'em _on_--like this?" He luminously exposed his left forearm.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237