A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 28

"I guess I'll go up the road to meet him," she said, rising.

Corrigan stepped over to the door. "No, you must stay here," he replied, decidedly.

"Why--why, what do you mean!" exclaimed Deb, turning pale.

"I mean just this," replied Corrigan, catching her by the arm, "you are my prisoner, and must do as I say."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I MEAN JUST THIS," REPLIED CORRIGAN, CATCHING HER BY THE ARM, "YOU ARE MY PRISONER AND MUST DO AS I SAY."]

CHAPTER XIX.

IN CORRIGAN'S POWER

For the moment after Corrigan made his a.s.sertion that Deb must do as he said, the terrified girl could not speak. She stared at the man in terror.

"Wha--what do you mean?" she gasped at last.

"You heard what I said," he answered coolly. "I want no nonsense from you either."

"But--but--what are you treating me so for?"

"That's my business, Miss Willington."

"And I must consider myself your prisoner?" she added, growing more pale than ever.

"That's it."

"You have no right to keep me here."

"Perhaps not, but you must remember that might makes right in some cases."

"Where is my brother Jack? I do not believe that you have told the truth about him."

"If you don't believe me, why do you want me to answer your questions?"

he returned with a wicked grin on his unshaven face.

"You have harmed Jack in some way--I am sure of it!"

"No, no! To tell you honestly I haven't the least idea where he is,"

said Corrigan hastily.

Under no circ.u.mstances did he wish to stand for the crimes which his brother-in-law had committed. As it was, he felt that he had enough to answer for on his own account.

There was an awkward pause after this. Then of a sudden Deb started to scream, but he quickly clapped his hand over her mouth.

"None of that!" he said, roughly. "If you won't be quiet, do you know what I'll have to do?"

"I guess you are mean enough to do almost anything!" burst out poor Deb.

"I'll have to gag you, that's what. I won't have you yelling for help, remember that!"

"But I do not wish to remain here!" insisted Deb, desperately.

"Oh, pshaw! I won't hurt you. Sit down and keep quiet."

But the girl could not compose herself and began to walk up and down the mill floor. She wished to get to the door and edged in that direction, but Corrigan quickly headed her off.

"You come with me," he said, presently. "I ain't going to trust you down here any more."

"I shan't go a step with you," she answered, vehemently. "O, Mr.

Corrigan, please let me go! Please do!" And she clasped her hands and held them out toward him.

"Don't cut up so, Miss Willington. As I said before, I shan't harm a hair of your head. But I must make you stay here for a while. Now come with me."

"But where do you wish me to go?"

"There is a loft overhead. I must lock you up there, but only for a little while."

"But why are you doing this?"

"As I said before, that must remain my business. Come."

She shook her head.

"I--I cannot!" she cried, and began to weep.

Muttering something under his breath the villain caught her by the arms, just as he had caught her when he had come for the model, and in a trice he was carrying her up to the loft. She struggled as best she could but this availed her nothing.

"Now you keep quiet, or I'll surely gag you," he said, as he set her down on the dusty floor. "If you start up any kind of a racket it will be the worse for you."

Having thus delivered himself, Corrigan went below again, closing the door to the loft behind him and fastened one of the bolts which was there to hold it in place.

Left to herself, Deb stood dazed for a moment in the center of the floor. Then she tottered to an empty box standing near and sank upon this, the picture of misery and despair.

What should she do? What could she do?

Over and over she asked herself the questions, but without reaching a satisfying answer. She was the prisoner of a wicked man, and to get away from him appeared impossible.

The loft was very dusty, and from overhead hung huge cobwebs full of dirt and spiders. It was quite dark, for the only window was a little affair overlooking the river and the four tiny panes of this were thick with grime, the acc.u.mulation of years.

At last she arose, and with a long-drawn sigh made her way toward the window. It was nailed fast and could not be raised, so she had to content herself with sc.r.a.ping some of the dirt from the gla.s.s and looking through the spots thus afforded.

She could see but little, and nothing which gave her satisfaction.

Below her was the broad and swift-flowing river, and beyond was a gra.s.sy bank, backed up by brush and tall trees. No boat was in sight, nor any human being.