I shall then be put into the coffin. You
think you know this coffin but you don't. See!"--and stepping out of
the sack he tapped the head of the coffin, which was very broad and
deep. "Come closer!" and he beckoned to the referees, whose numbers
were now augmented by three newspaper reporters--representatives of
the _Daily Snapper_, the _Planet_ and the _Hooter_ respectively. "Here
is a secret panel worked by a spring. I will press, and you will press
too."
And amidst a breathless silence--the nine members of the audience on
the stage following every movement--Curtis put his hand inside the
head of the coffin and touched a very slight elevation in the wood. In
an instant, by a wonderfully neat piece of mechanism, a panel slid
back, leaving just sufficient room for a man of moderate dimensions to
squeeze through.
Everyone now looked at John Martin--he was leaning back in his chair,
breathing hard, his eyes starting out of his head, his cheeks white.
Hamar saw him and grinned, grinned malevolently, but the smile died
out of his face when he glanced at Gladys--the scorn in the girl's
eyes made his blood boil.
"All right, Miss Martin," he muttered between his teeth; "you adopt
that attitude now, but you will adopt a very different one later on!
I'll win you body and soul, or my name is not what it is."
He was interrupted in this amiable reflection by Curtis. "I'm too
stout to play the role of the corpse, and so is Matt," Curtis said to
him; "you must undertake that part.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174