Free The Glass Village by Ellery Queen Page B

without cuffs …”
    Tommy Hemus drawled: “He ain’t goin’ no place.”
    Dave Hemus, sucking on a torn knuckle: “Not any more he ain’t.”
    Hubert Hemus, to his sons: “Shut up.”
    Drakeley Scott said nothing. The thin-shouldered boy was staring at the jerking fugitive with heat, almost with hunger.
    â€˜Was he armed?” asked Judge Shinn.
    â€œNo,” said Constable Hackett. “I kind of wish he was.”
    Ferriss Adams walked up to the man and looked him over. “Has he talked?” he asked harshly.
    â€œJabbered some,” said Peter Berry. “Try him, Mr. Adams.”
    â€œYou killed her, didn’t you?” said Ferriss Adams.
    The man said nothing.
    â€œDidn’t you?” shouted the lawyer. “Can’t you talk, damn you? All it needs is a yes or no!”
    The eyes merely kept rolling.
    â€œFerriss,” said Judge Shinn.
    Adams sucked in some air and stepped back. “Also,” he said coldly, “you went and pushed my car into the bog. How am I going to get it out? Won’t you talk about that, either?”
    â€œCar in the bog?” said Peter Berry alertly. “Now that’s a darn shame, Mr. Adams. S’pose I take a look—”
    â€œNot now,” said Hube Hemus. The slight man had not moved. “Burney, put the halter on him.”
    â€œWait!” said the Judge. “What are you going to do?”
    â€œGot to secure the prisoner, Judge, don’t we?” said the constable. “Brought along a calf halter. It ought to just fit.” Hackett slipped a muddy halter over the fugitive’s head. The man dropped to his knees. His eyes rolled back so far only the whites showed.
    â€œHe thinks he’s going to be hanged or shot,” exclaimed Judge Shinn. “Can’t you see this man is in the last stages of fright? Not to mention pain! Take this nasty thing off him, Burney.”
    â€œAin’t nobody goin’ to hurt him, Judge.” The constable tightened the neck-strap and buckled it. “Nobody’s goin’ to shoot you, killer. Not for a while, anyway.” He snapped a lead-rope to the ring of the halter. “There we are. Try gettin’ out of that.”
    The nose-piece of the halter gave the man a ridiculous animal appearance. It seemed to annoy him. His torn hands tugged at it violently.
    â€œBetter tie his hands, too,” said Hube Hemus. “Dave, Tommy, hang on to him. Anybody got another rope?”
    â€œThere’s some rope under the seat of the truck, Eddie,” Orville Pangman said to his son.
    The Hemus twins took hold of the man’s arms, one pulling one way, one another. The man stopped struggling. Eddie Pangman scrambled off the truck with a length of tarred rope. His father took it from him. The twins slammed the prisoner’s wrists together behind his back and the big farmer trussed them.
    Judge Shinn stepped forward.
    â€œNow he’s all right, Judge,” said the elder Hemus politely. “Orville, I’ll take him in my car with Tommy and Dave. He might get a notion to jump out of an open truck. Burney, get him on his feet.”
    â€œCome on, get up.” Hackett pulled on the rope. The kneeling figure resisted. “Nobody’s goin’ to do nothin’ to you. Up on your pins!”
    â€œWould you mind waiting a minute, Hackett?” Johnny heard his voice say.
    They stared at him.
    Johnny went over to the cowering man, wondering at his own energy. He was beginning to get a headache. “Miss Plummer said this man talked in a foreign accent. Maybe he doesn’t understand English too well.” He stooped over the prisoner. “Do you know what I’m saying?”
    Bruised lips moving; the eyes were closed.
    â€œWhat was that?” Johnny asked him.
    The lips kept moving.
    Johnny straightened. “Sounds like Russian, or Polish.”
    â€œTold you he jabbered!” said