He needed no glance at his limbs to discover that he was bound hand and foot.
“Stay the way you are,” suggested Teck. “You’ll find it more comfortable lying down.”
Val glanced at as much of the room as he could see. It was a well furnished bedroom, with a couch at the side on which he was lying. Through the open door he could see a living room which he recognized.
He was in Ignace Teck’s apartment.
“To what am I indebted for the honor you pay me,” he inquired of Teck carelessly.
Teck dismissed it with a wave of his stump. “It’s nothing—a little game of my own, you know. No trouble to me, I assure you.”
“H-m-m! I suppose not,” said Val dryly. “I might have known you would figure somewhere in this, Iggy.”
“My name is Ignace—preferably Mister Teck to you,” put in Teck, with dignity.
“Ah yes, Iggy, you are perfectly right. But why be so formal among friends?” bantered Val. “And, by the way, these cords of yours are hurting my wrists, you know.”
“Indeed?” put in Teck politely.
“And, although I can’t feel it, I suspect I have a rather large bump on my head,” continued Val.
“Indeed you have,” Teck assured him. “And you can thank your stars that you still have your head, my lad. If I had followed my own inclinations in the matter . . .” he paused significantly, but there was no mistaking the meaning of his glance at Val.
“What pleasant ideas you have, Iggy,” admired Val. “I must say that must have been a man’s-sized bump on the bean you handed me, Iggy⸺”
