“Well, then, how much do you want to let me go? My father will pay any ransom; of course- you realize we’re important people-and the police will surely track you down if you aren’t careful, of me.”
“We’ll be very careful with you, honey,” said the woman and the ghost of a smile played on her heavily rouged lips. “Suppose, now, you take off that coat.
What’s your name, by the way?”
“I don’t have to tell you until I’m sure you’ll get in touch with my parents,” said Marcia, “and as for taking off my coat, I’m not to be ordered!”
“Her coat, Joe,” snapped the woman, compressing her lips. And before the surprised Marcia could defend herself, Joe had seized her neck with his left hand and wrenched the expensive coat off her shoulders with his right.
“Oh! You unspeakable brute!” exclaimed Marcia, pale with anger and she struck out with her gloved right hand, slapping him across the mouth.
Sheltered as she had been from the world in her pampered eighteen years, she was totally unprepared for his reaction: it caule, in the form of a brutal blow of his palm across her cheek that sent her reeling, dazed, her flawless skin crimsoned from the blow.
“Ohbhhh!” she gasped, tottering and regaining her equilibrium.
“Take her up to her room, Bill,” said the woman. “She’ll need to freshen up a bit before customers start arriving.”
Marcia’s befuddled brain vaguely registered these words; her assurance and insolence had been so staggered by the swift pace of events that she did not protest when the younger guard set heavy fingers on her gloved wrist and led her up the stairs at the back of the foyer of the house.
He led her down the corridor of the second floor, to a room at the very end of the hail, unlocked the door and thrust her roughly inside, locking the door on “her.
The arrogant and beautiful young debutante, so superbly gowned for the social festivities announcing her arrival upon the stage of the elite, was a prisoner, in a room of a deserted house miles from New York!
For a moment she stood, stupefied; then her anger returned to her and in an excess of temper she threw herself at the door, tugging at the knob, beating on the door with her gloved fists.
Silence, silence, responded; only the echo of her hammering returned to mock her.
She turned around, pale and trembling; she began to take notice of the room in which she was kept prisoner.’
It was a strange room, elegantly furnished in fastidious style; but, for all its correctness, it contained strange elements, which made her sensation of uneasiness return.
Here and there were love seats, lush and inviting… a wide, plush-lined divan was at one side of the room… several large Louis Quinze mirrors, oval and ornate in decorative, frames, were placed at the corners. At the right, as her eyes slowly turned to contemplate, was a boudoir table and, fascinated by some strange impulse, she slowly advanced toward it.
“Why… why…, it looks like my own,” she murmured to herself and that enigmatic, troubling aura of fear and apprehension piqued her…
‘Her eyes rose, surveying the walls and now again she was strangely uneasy.
There were many pictures, placed in abundance on the walls. She drew closer, to observe and suddenly she gasped.
For what she regarded was an enlarged photograph of a beautiful, naked girl on a couch, with an equally naked male bending over her loins, his face conveying a lustful expression.
Her eyes hastily recoiled. She gazed at the next picture-it too was a scene of carnal intercourse: a blond girl, clad only in a chemise, was on all fours on a lush rug; and, holding high the hem of her light garment in one hand, while with the other he groped for her pendant, bare breasts, was a naked male, his organ of consummation aimed for the delectable downed nook’ revealed between the girl’s widened thighs “Horrible…“ murmured Marcia, her face contorting with disgust. “What sort of place must this be and why has no one told me what the ransom terms are to be?”
She turned… at the right, the room ended with an arched doorway, covered by velvet~. drapes. Curious, she drew these aside and stood on the threshold of a smaller room.
It was a bedroom, in which the single furnishing was a great, wide bed, covered with exquisite lace and satin sheets, coverlets and pillows, deep, soft pillows.
And here again she was astonished: for this magnificent bed resembled her own in almost every detail!
It must be coincidence; but how came it that this outwardly appearing ramshackle old house should be so elegantly furnished within and that among the furnishings were a boudoir table and a bed that seemed exact replicas of her own?
She had an alligator-skin purse with her; she opened it, took out a cigarette, lit it and seated herself in one of the love seats.
No sound reached her. Was she to be left alone like this, incommunicado?
A half hour passed thus. She finished her cigarette, lit another with impatience. Her eyes involuntarily rose to the wall, but when they discerned the foul, lascivious tableaux, she shuddered and withdrew her gaze.
At last she heard the sound of footsteps along the corridor. They came nearer … neater still then stopped outside the door of her prison.
A key turned… she rose quickly, holding up her purse as if it were a weapon with which she meant to defend herself.
The door opened.
On the threshold appeared the woman who had met her downstairs and, her wrist captive in the woman’s bony hand, was-Marie!
Her own maid here, a prisoner too! It-it was impossible; she had seen Marie driven off in a taxi before entering her Cadillac en route to the Waldorf.
“Inside,” said the woman, shoving Marie into the room; and then she entered, planting herself, arms akimbo, before the door and confronting the two beauties, mistress and servant, but equals now in their confinement.
“Marie!” exclaimed Marcia, for once genuinely glad to see her erstwhile disdained maid.
The blond soubrette turned and her face expressed incredulous surprise.
“Mam’selle,” she exclaimed, “they:got you too? Mon Diets, que c’est terrible!”
“All right, all right, never mind the parleyvoo,” interposed the stern, gowned termagant, with a raucous laugh. “Let’s get things straight. You, blondie, your name’s Marie, eh?”
“Yes, Madame,” returned the pretty soubrette.
“You seem to know this other gal?” “Out, Madame, I am her maid.”
“That’s a nifty! Couldn’t have been better arranged. Well, then, Marie, you can keep on workin’ for your mistress. Pretty soon there’ll be gentlemen callers for her and you, too, my pretty one. And I want you to fix her up in. her best make her attractive… a little more rouge, some perfume… everythin’s on that table there.”
Marcia, hearing these words as in a. dream, at last cleared bet mind of the shadows that dung to her and, her eyes furious with vexation, exclaimed, “Just what do you mean? I’ll give you my father’s telephone number; kindly get in touch with him and tell him to get me out of here. I’m getting rather tired of this game.”
The woman regarded her and to Marcia’s indignation her gaze slowly swept the statuesque form of the lovely debutante’s gowned loveliness, as if appraising her treasures through the clinging fabric which accentuated the splendor of Marcia’s bosom and long, firm thighs.
“It won’t be necessary to call your father, dear,” said the woman in a mocking tone.
“But the ransom… I haven’t any money with me!” stormed Marcia, stamping her pump-shod foot with anger.
“What a temper! That’ll please our customers, I know.”
“Customers… that’s the second time I’ve heard that word. Please have the goodness to explain to me just what it is you want, if you don’t want ransom.”
“You’re an unobservant little fool if you haven’t made a study of your new quarters by this time,” responded her jailer, with a sensual smile. “Mean to tell me you haven’t got the drift of those pictures on the wall?”