Clutching Hand was now spraying the rug close to the dressing
table of Elaine and was standing near the mirror. He stooped down
to examine the rug. Then, as he raised his head, he happened to
look into the mirror. In it he could see the full reflection of
Michael behind him, gazing into the room.
"The scoundrel!" muttered Clutching Hand, with repressed fury at
the discovery.
He rose quickly and shut off the spraying instrument, stuffing it
into the bag. He took a step or two toward the door. Michael drew
back, fearfully, pretending now to be on guard.
Clutching Hand opened the door and, still wearing the muzzle,
beckoned to Michael. Michael could scarcely control his fears. But
he obeyed, entering Elaine's room after the Clutching Hand, who
locked the door.
"Were you watching me?" demanded the master criminal, with rage.
Michael, trembling all over, shook his head. For a moment
Clutching Hand looked him over disdainfully at the clumsy lie.
Then he brutally struck Michael in the face, knocking him down. An
ungovernable, almost insane fury seemed to possess the man as he
stood over the prostrate footman, cursing.
"Get up!" he ordered.
Michael obeyed, thoroughly cowed.
"Take me to the cellar, now," he demanded.
Michael led the way from the room without a protest, the master
criminal following him closely.
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