by kicking him not especially hard on the thigh. "You can't croak him. He's tough. He's a tough baby. He likes this." He bent down, grasped one of the unconscious man's lapels in each hand and dragged him to his knees. "Don't you like it, baby?" he asked and holding Ned Beaumont up on his knees with one hand, struck his face with the other fist.
The door-knob was rattled from the outside.
Jeff called: "Who's that?"
Shad O'Rory's pleasant voice: "Me."
Jeff dragged Ned Beaumont far enough from the door to let it open, dropped him there, and unlocked the door with a key taken from his pocket.
O'Rory and Whisky came in. ORory looked at the man on the floor, then at Jeff, and finally at Rusty. His blue-grey eyes were clouded, When he spoke it was to ask Rusty: "Jeff been slapping him down for the fun of it?"
The rosy-checked boy shook his head. "This Beaumont is a son of a bitch," he said sullenly. "Every time he comes to he gets up and starts something."
"I don't want him killed, not yet," O'Rory said. He looked down at Ned Beaumont. "See if you can bring him around again. I want to talk to him."
Rusty got up from the table. "I don't know," he said. "He's pretty far gone."
Jeff was more optimistic. "Sure we can," he said. "I'll show you. Take his feet, Rusty." He put his hands under Ned Beaumont's armpits.
They carried the unconscious man into the bathroom and put him in the tub. Jeff put the stopper in and turned on cold water from both the faucet below and the shower above. "That'll have him up and singing in no time," he predicted.
Five minutes later, when they hauled him dripping from the tub and set him on his feet, Ned Beaumont could stand. They took him into the bedroom again. O'Rory was sitting on one of the chairs smoking a cigarette. Whisky had gone.
"Put him on the bed," O'Rory ordered.
Jeff and Rusty led their charge to the bed, turned him around, and pushed him down on it. When they took their hands away from him he fell straight hack on the bed. They pulled him into a sitting position again and Jeff slapped his battered face with an open hand, saying: "Come on, Rip Van Winkle, come to life."
"A swell chance of him coming to life," the sullen Rusty grumbled.
"You think he won't?" Jeff asked cheerfully and slapped Ned Beaumont again.
Ned Beaumont opened the one eye not too swollen to be opened.
O'Rory said: "Beaumont."
Ned Beaumont raised his head and tried to look around the room, but there was nothing to show he could see Shad O'Rory.
O'Rory got up from his chair and stood in front of Ned Beaumont, bending down until his face was a few inches from the other man's. He asked: "Can you hear me, Beaumont?"
Ned Beaumont's open eye looked dull hate into O'Rory's eyes.
O'Rory said: "This is O'Rory, Beaumont. Can you hear what I say?"
Moving his swollen lips with difficulty, Ned Beaumont uttered a thick "Yes."
O'Rory said: "Good. Now listen to what I tell you. You're going to give me the dope on Paul." He spoke very distinctly without raising his voice, without his voice losing any of its musical quality. "Maybe you think you won't, but you will. I'll have you worked on from now till you do. Do you understand me?"
Ned Beaumont smiled. The condition of his face made the smile horrible. He said: "I won't."
O'Rory stepped back and said: "Work on him."
While Rusty hesitated, the apish Jeff knocked aside Ned Beaumont's upraised hand and pushed him down on the bed. "I got something to try." He scooped up Ned Beaumont's legs and tumbled them on the bed. He leaned over Ned Beaumont, his hands busy on Ned Beaumont's body.
Ned Beaumont's body and arms and legs jerked convulsively and three times he groaned. After that he lay still.
Jeff straightened up and took his hands away from the man on the bed. He was breathing heavily through his ape's mouth. He growled, half in complaint, half in apology: "It ain't no good now. He's throwed another joe."
4
When Ned Beaumont recovered consciousness he was alone in
The door-knob was rattled from the outside.
Jeff called: "Who's that?"
Shad O'Rory's pleasant voice: "Me."
Jeff dragged Ned Beaumont far enough from the door to let it open, dropped him there, and unlocked the door with a key taken from his pocket.
O'Rory and Whisky came in. ORory looked at the man on the floor, then at Jeff, and finally at Rusty. His blue-grey eyes were clouded, When he spoke it was to ask Rusty: "Jeff been slapping him down for the fun of it?"
The rosy-checked boy shook his head. "This Beaumont is a son of a bitch," he said sullenly. "Every time he comes to he gets up and starts something."
"I don't want him killed, not yet," O'Rory said. He looked down at Ned Beaumont. "See if you can bring him around again. I want to talk to him."
Rusty got up from the table. "I don't know," he said. "He's pretty far gone."
Jeff was more optimistic. "Sure we can," he said. "I'll show you. Take his feet, Rusty." He put his hands under Ned Beaumont's armpits.
They carried the unconscious man into the bathroom and put him in the tub. Jeff put the stopper in and turned on cold water from both the faucet below and the shower above. "That'll have him up and singing in no time," he predicted.
Five minutes later, when they hauled him dripping from the tub and set him on his feet, Ned Beaumont could stand. They took him into the bedroom again. O'Rory was sitting on one of the chairs smoking a cigarette. Whisky had gone.
"Put him on the bed," O'Rory ordered.
Jeff and Rusty led their charge to the bed, turned him around, and pushed him down on it. When they took their hands away from him he fell straight hack on the bed. They pulled him into a sitting position again and Jeff slapped his battered face with an open hand, saying: "Come on, Rip Van Winkle, come to life."
"A swell chance of him coming to life," the sullen Rusty grumbled.
"You think he won't?" Jeff asked cheerfully and slapped Ned Beaumont again.
Ned Beaumont opened the one eye not too swollen to be opened.
O'Rory said: "Beaumont."
Ned Beaumont raised his head and tried to look around the room, but there was nothing to show he could see Shad O'Rory.
O'Rory got up from his chair and stood in front of Ned Beaumont, bending down until his face was a few inches from the other man's. He asked: "Can you hear me, Beaumont?"
Ned Beaumont's open eye looked dull hate into O'Rory's eyes.
O'Rory said: "This is O'Rory, Beaumont. Can you hear what I say?"
Moving his swollen lips with difficulty, Ned Beaumont uttered a thick "Yes."
O'Rory said: "Good. Now listen to what I tell you. You're going to give me the dope on Paul." He spoke very distinctly without raising his voice, without his voice losing any of its musical quality. "Maybe you think you won't, but you will. I'll have you worked on from now till you do. Do you understand me?"
Ned Beaumont smiled. The condition of his face made the smile horrible. He said: "I won't."
O'Rory stepped back and said: "Work on him."
While Rusty hesitated, the apish Jeff knocked aside Ned Beaumont's upraised hand and pushed him down on the bed. "I got something to try." He scooped up Ned Beaumont's legs and tumbled them on the bed. He leaned over Ned Beaumont, his hands busy on Ned Beaumont's body.
Ned Beaumont's body and arms and legs jerked convulsively and three times he groaned. After that he lay still.
Jeff straightened up and took his hands away from the man on the bed. He was breathing heavily through his ape's mouth. He growled, half in complaint, half in apology: "It ain't no good now. He's throwed another joe."
4
When Ned Beaumont recovered consciousness he was alone in
Similar Books
