The Whip Hand by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2000-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

When the chimes rang softly, I felt a surge of hope and relief. With someone at the door, I'd have to move. Dad wouldn't pay any attention; he probably wouldn't even hear the chimes. Maybe it would be Brown, but I doubted that. More likely Fred Campbell, I thought.

The ringing continued while I made myself get up. I wiped damp strands of hair away from my face and eyes as I made my way to the door, gave my suit a final smoothing down and opened the door.

It was Brown, after all; and he had someone else with him. I moved my eyes away from Brown's haggard-looking face and glanced at the other man. It wasn't a man, at all, just a boy. I waited for Brown to explain the scared kid in the stained suit.

"The gang got scattered," he said.

I tried to connect his words. This kid, and the tough gang I had hired him to bring in; but I couldn't make any sense out of it.

"Oh," I said, "they did?"

He went on talking like it was all very easy to understand. "So I decided to bring one at a time, Miss Dixon. Donald here was handy, and cooperative, so I brought him first."

It finally dawned on me what Brown was trying to say. He wanted to sell this poor kid off as one of the kidnappers!

You're trying to tell me that boy is one of the gang of murderers I hired you to catch?" I laughed in his race.

"I was rather lucky, Miss Dixon. If you'll let us in, as agreed in our contract, we'll see what's in this bag I took away from that boy, as you call him." He held up a large leather grip and pushed the kid through the door ahead of him with his other hand.

I closed the door and led the way to the library, thinking that Brown took Dad and me to be pretty gullible. I announced our arrival to Dad, who still sat quietly by the large garden window.

"Mr. Brown's back, Dad. He thinks he has one of the gang--" Dad turned and watched them enter, with more life in his eyes than I had seen all day. I thought he was in for a big disappointment before this visit was over.

"Sit right over there, Donald," Brown said. He motioned, and the boy sidled over to the chair in a circle that took him beyond Brown's reach. The chair was at the end of the big desk; and Donald propped himself on the front edge, twisting nervously. He watched as Brown unzipped the bag, and I thought there were tears brimming in the kid's eyes. I didn't know what to think of it. Donald looked like any average, nice boy off the farm.

Brown turned the leather grip upside down over the desk, and I was certainly surprised to see it pour packages of currency in a spreading pile before us. I looked at Dad and saw him jerk his eyes away from Donald, glance at freckled face distorted in honor.

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