Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/88

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82
THE WHISPER ON THE STAIR

cripple, threaten you? You see . . .” he regarded his hands, and was silent for a moment or two.

“Then just what do you mean by⸺”

“Exactly what I said. You are a stranger to Miss Pomeroy—it would be well for you to remain a stranger, and not to mix into affairs that do not concern you in any way.”

“Is this a warning?” asked Val.

The other shrugged his shoulders. “It is anything you choose to make it, my young friend.”

“And if I choose to disregard it⸺”

“Well, we shall see what we shall see, in that event. You are young and healthy—why not remain that way?” He looked at him significantly, his scar glowing in the semi-darkness of the car like a phosphorous gash in his evil face. Val was silent—he did not choose to answer him, and after a time the man went on.

“You will find it best to take my—advice,” he sibilated above the noise of the motor. “And now, if I may leave you⸺”

“Stop on the corner, Eddie,” directed Val. The car grated to a halt.

Val pushed the door open. “Thank you for your advice,” he remarked calmly. “When I feel in need of any more I’ll let you know. I expect to see Miss Pomeroy to-night,” he informed him gratuitously. There was no necessity for telling him this, but Val shrewdly suspected that he already knew, so there was no harm in the parting shot.

The other shrugged his shoulders again.

“Ah, well, youth . . .” he said, almost as though he were thinking aloud. He stood on the curb and bowed his thanks in a courtly manner as the car swung off on its way uptown.