of a woman.
I however, made a strong effort for the preservation of my dignity and person.
“And will Samuel Pollard’s oldest and best-beloved son, the kind~hearted and honest Dwight, lend himself to a scheme of common fraud and violence?” I asked.
The reply came in his brother’s most sarcastic tones. “Dwight has left us,” he declared. “We have no need of honesty or kind~heartedness here. What we want for this business is an immovable determination.”
Startled, I looked up. The lantern which had hitherto swung from the Al Hilal Club Dresy hand of my guide stood on the floor. By its light three things were visible. First, that we stood at the head of a staircase descending into a depth of darkness which the eye could not pierce; secondly, that in all the area about me but two Arjen Robben Fotbalové Dres persons stood; and third, that of these two persons one of them was masked and clad in a long black garment, such as is worn at masquerade balls under the Anton Forsberg Tröjor name Maillot Recife of a domino. Struck with an icy chill, I looked down again. Why had I allowed myself to be caught in such a trap? Why had I not followed Mr. Nicholls immediately to Boston when I heard that he was no longer in town? Or, better still, why had I not manufactured for myself a safeguard Filip Chytil Tröja in the form of a letter to that gentleman, informing him of the important document which I held, and the danger in which it possibly stood from the family into whose toils I had now fallen? I could have cursed myself for my dereliction.
“David Barrows,” came in imperative tones from the masked figure, “will you tell us where this will is?”
“No,” I returned.
“Is it not on your person?” the inquisitorial voice pursued.
“It is not,” I answered, firmly, thankful that I spoke the truth in this.
“It is in your rooms, then; in your desk, perhaps?”
I remained silent.
“Is it in your rooms?” the indomitable woman proceeded.
“You who have been there should know,” I replied, feeling my courage rise, as I considered that they could not assail my honor, while my life without my Christian Djoos Tröja secret would benefit them so little that it might be said to stand in no danger.
“I do not understand you,” the icy voice declared; while Guy, stepping forward, planted his hand firmly on my shoulder and said:
“Wherever it is, Johor Darul Takzim Dresy it shall be delivered to our keeping Larry Robinson Tröja to-night. We are in no mood for dallying. Either you will give us your solemn promise to obtain this will, and hand it over to us without delay and without scandal, or the free light of heaven is shut out from you forever. You shall never leave this mill.”
“But,” I faltered, Dánsko Dresy striving in vain to throw off the incubus of horror which his words invoked, “what good would my Maillot Honduras death do you? Could it put Mr. Pollard’s Manchester City Dresy will in your hands?”
“Yes,” was the brief and decided reply, “if it is Maillot Chinois anywhere in your rooms.”
It was a word that struck home. The will was in my rooms, and I already saw it, in my imagination, torn from its hiding-place by the unscrupulous hand that held me.
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