Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 111, No. 4, June 12, 1937

From Ten To Three by Edgar Franklin

Johnny Dolan and “Rosy Cheeks” tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, and somehow hit one of them large iron suits of armor.

“Positively, John,” Mr. James (Red) Binney said very earnestly, addressing that dumbest and utterest of all crime’s utterly dumb failures, pug-nosed young Johnny Dolan, across the bar of his fearful little cellar saloon, “this last coupla days since you been stringin’ wit’ Sniffy O’Toole you are gettin’ as nutty as himself. What I mean, the slug has so many bats in his dome you can hear them squeak wit’ the radio goin’ in the room. What I mean, any party which keeps sayin’ ‘Psst!’ an’ actin’ like somethin’ in a detectatif story is that sour in the noggin you can catch the smell o’ vinegar if he stands wit’in ten feet o’ yuh!”

“Yeah?” Johnny Dolan smiled.

“Absolutely! So lissen, John. A punk like you, which has not the brains of a cockroach to start wit’, cannot afford to get them put any further on the fritz, so here is what you do: take a nice little drink on the house o’ this new Seven-X, which is absolutely pure rye, an’ then beat it as fast as possible; an’ if O’Toole comes lookin’ for you I will say you was called out o’ town on account of your grandmother suddenly died.”

Mr. James (Red) Binney was certainly very upset over his pal.

Johnny Dolan tossed off a scant tumblerful of the Seven-X, rocked back on his heels for a moment, dashed away the water which had spurted from his eyes, and smiled again, just as mysteriously.

“Thanks, Red,” he said, “but I will nevertheless wait for Sniffy, on account of it cannot be helped. What I mean, you would probably not understand, but this job I been discussin’ wit’ Sniffy can easy be somethin’ which was all set up maybe fifty thousand years ago, or maybe even a million years ago!”

“What is this?” Mr. Binney grunted.

“Positively, Red! You would get the angle if you knew about storology. What I mean, if you knew about storology you would see why Sniffy cannot help gettin’ here no more’n I can help bein’ here, see, on account of that is how it was all doped out by the stars, even before George Washington was born.”

“Yeah — sure. Why not?” Mr. Binney muttered.

“Well, look, Red,” Johnny Dolan smiled patiently. “I dunno if I can explain it so a dumb cluck like you can get it, but lately I am very much interested in storology. What I mean, Pinhead McGovern is sellin’ around a book about storology for one buck, so I finally give him thirty cents for one, on account of he practically guaranteed it would make me rich. Well, it is all about stars, see? Take for instance, you would probably not know what stars you was born under, but—”

“One second!” Mr. Binney broke in with some heat. “It so happened my old man was workin’ steady longshore at the time an’ the rent was consequently paid, so I was positively not born under no stars. I was born on the fourt’ floor front o’ the same house on Tenth Avenyer near Thirty-eighth street, where we lived till I was near nine years old.”

“Y’ got it all wrong, Red,” Johnny Dolan sighed, “on account of it ain’t that kind of stars in storology. Look, takin’ it another way. In this book it says how there is, like, all different signs, see, which you could get born under. Well, supposin’ a person would get born under this, now, Scorpions, say, he would naturally have to do thus an’ so, on account of he couldn’t help doin’ it no other way, could he? Okay! Now, supposin’ you was born under Cancer—”

“Hold that, Dolan!” Mr. Binney barked. “An’ if you don’t wanna get that ugly puss slapped through the back o’ your coco, you can lay offen any more o’ them cracks at my family! See? There was never no healthier people lived in Hell’s Kitchen than my old man an’ my old lady!”

“Well — it seems you still got it wrong,” Johnny Dolan muttered, and scratched his head. “Well, look, Red, puttin’ it yet another way. Maybe half o’ this book is all about days, see? What I mean, good days an’ bad days for certain persons which is born in different signs; an’ this part is absolutely on the level, on account I know certain parties which played them good days an’ bad days an’ picked a winner every time. Take for instance Moey the Mutt, which also has this book. It seems he is gonna open a certain clothin’ store on a Monday night, an’ he looks in the book to make sure it is okey doke, an’ the book says he should hop to it, on account of this night he will prosper an’ all obstacles will be removed. So Moey opens this clothin’ store an’ what does he find? The watchman has a’ready dropped dead o’ heart disease some hours ago!”

“Aha?” Mr. Binney mumbled.

“An’ also Gimpy Smith, which also has this book an’ is gonna cool a certain lad wit’ a payroll — only the book says he will do much better stayin’ home this day, an’ he finally stays an’ so what? So he is settin’ on the front steps, wonderin’ is he goofy or otherwise, to be neglectin’ business like this, an’ the lad wit’ the payroll comes by, soused to the gills, an’ goes to sleep on the sidewalk in front o’ Gimpy, so it is not even necessary to bust his skull.”

“Lissen, John!” Mr. Binney began gently.

“Wait! This is the ninth o’ this month, ain’t it?”

“So I heard,” Mr. Binney sighed.

“An’ Sniffy O’Toole has yellow hair, ain’t he?”

“The same as some floosie that’d be doin’ a strip-tease, but John—”

“Okay, y’ poor iggernant lug!” Johnny Dolan shouted. “Then here it lays. In the book it says how, up to noon tomorrow at least, I must have dealin’s only wit’ blond persons. An’ it says how between ten o’clock tonight an’ three tomorrow mornin’, great success will attend all my undertaking, see, if only I am darin’ an’ persistent, an’ I have nothin’ to fear whatsoever! An’ still furthermore, it says how tonight is very suspicious for all my love affairs an’ I will find great happiness... Of course, that is only for people like me, which is born in an aquarium. Get the idea?”

“John, I got no more notion what the hell you are talkin’ about than you have yourself,” Mr. Binney answered. His gimlet eyes were strangely moist and there was a distinct quaver in the steel-rasp sound-effect he used for a voice. “But me an’ you has been pals for many years, so we will now leave Sam to look after the joint an’ we will step down to the croaker’s an’ see is this somethin’ that can get fixed or do they really have to dust out a place for you in the booby-hatch at last.”

Johnny Dolan annoyedly shook off the hand that patted his arm.

“Kindly tie a can to the comedy, Red,” he said. “How this adds up, from what I am readin’ in the book an’ what Sniffy tells me o’ this job we have on hand, I will probably be retirin’ from business tomorrow an’ I think I will then go straight. What I mean, I will open some kind o’ fashionable clip-joint, wit’ a swell floor show an’ probably a dizzy wheel an’ a couple o’ good dealers upstairs, y’ know; an’ supposin’ we can get one o’ them plaster surgeons to fix over your map so it will not scare away trade, it might be you could take over the bar an’ — oh, hello, Sniffy.”

Mr. Sniffy O’Toole indeed had arrived. He was an odd-looking youth, lean, weak-muscled, twitchy, with stringy yellow hair and pale blue eyes that darted from side to side. He peered about warily for an instant and then glided over to the bar.

“Well?” he asked huskily, from the corner of his mouth. “So?”

“Well?” Johnny Dolan said, also from one corner of his mouth. “So what?”

“So was there one long an’ two shorts?”

“There was nothin’ you wouldn’t hear any evenin’ about this time,” Johnny Dolan said.

“Was you lissenin’?”

“Absolutely!”

“Was you lissenin’ careful?”

“Lissen, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan said, “if I would’a lissened any harder, the insides o’ my ears would now be stickin’ out like the feelers on a bug.”

“Strange — strange,” Mr. O’Toole muttered, with a long, thoughtful sniff. “He should’a been here before this an’ — psst!” he cried, holding up one hand. “Wasn’t that one long an’ two shorts, Dolan?”

“That was one long, wit’ positively no shorts,” Johnny Dolan said firmly.

“Yeah?” Mr. O’Toole frowned doubtfully, with several rapid sniffs. “I’d certain’y’a said that was — psst! Was that one long an’ two shorts?”

“Absolutely not!” said Johnny Dolan. “That was two shorts, wit’ no long whatsoever.”

“Hey, lissen!” Mr. Binney cried brokenly, for even he had nerves. “Whatever this is, would you kindly roll it outside, on account of you are gettin’ me down wit’ all this—”

“Psst! Psst! Psst!” Mr. O’Toole shot at him angrily and waved both hands — and this time, to be sure, the single long blast of an automobile horn did sound from the street, and after it two shorter blasts. “Hah!” Mr. O’Toole said, with a great, relieved sniff. “That is probably sayin’ he wishes me to come steer him in here for a conference. Stay where you are, Dolan. I will hold up one finger if it is okay for you to foller us into the back room. Binney! Kindly chuck out whosoever is in there, on account of we have to talk very private.”

He glided across the sawdust floor and up the steps to the street. Mr. Binney passed one horny hand over his forehead.

“Lissen, John,” he said hoarsely, “an’ t’ hell wit’ whatever this stromology book is tellin’ you, you still got time to beat it out through the back window, an’ if this goof shows again I will paste him one wit’ the bung-starter an’—”

He subsided, lips parted. Mr. O’Toole had already returned and beside him hurried a curious figure — a stocky man in a long dark overcoat, with wide collar turned up until it met his black slouch hat, which was pulled far down in front. So that, Johnny Dolan reflected with a slight shiver, for all you could really see this guy might have a head or it might just as easy be that his lid was simply resting on his collar, with nothing whatsoever inside. It made a person feel quite peculiar along the backbone.

“Dolan!” Mr. O’Toole croaked.

“Yeah?” Johnny Dolan said thinly.

“Psst!” said Mr. O’Toole, and held up one finger. “An’ lock the door after you.”

At least, Johnny Dolan noted when he had locked the door, the party had a head, once his collar was turned down, and the more you looked at this head the more puzzled you got, on account of you knew positively you had seen it somewheres before, maybe only in a newspaper picture.

There was a very fine pan on the front of this head, with a little white moustache and a jaw with large bumps at the back corners and a couple of sharp gray eyes which seemed like they were probably going straight through your clothes and your skin and looking over what you had for dinner.

“Psst, Dolan!” Mr. O’Toole said. “Pull your chair over close to the table here, on account of we have to whisper. Dolan, as you can doubtlessly see, this is Mr. Cyrus P. Van Inkle in person an’... an’ this is Johnny Dolan, Mr. Van Inkle.”

Mr. Van Inkle nodded, how it looked to Johnny Dolan, with about three hairs of one eyebrow.

“I guess it seems quite peculiar, Dolan, how a slug like me would be knowin’ a rich gent like Mr. Van Inkle,” Mr. O’Toole pursued genially, “but it is somewhat like this. Monday I am to a certain polo game, see, lookin’ to see what this guy has in his pockets an’ then makin’ a very quick getaway an’ lookin’ to see what some other guy has in his pockets; an’ it seems that Mr. Van Inkle, which has very fine eyes, is watchin’ me an’ gets greatly interested, on account of he says I move exactly like a ghost.”

“Can you move like a ghost, too?” Mr. Van Inkle snapped. “It is essential. I must have two men on this job, and O’Toole says you can.”

“Why, absolutely!” Johnny Dolan replied. “I could also make noises like a ghost an’ if necessary I could—”

“Well, anyhow,” Mr. O’Toole pursued smugly, “it seems Mr. Van Inkle gets more an’ more interested in this way which I move, on account of he is needin’ somebody which moves exactly like a ghost, an’ so he follers me an’ gives me the sign an’ we go sit in the clubhouse, which is empty—”

“I’ll do the talking, O’Toole,” Mr. Van Inkle clipped off, and now you saw them eyes could get very mean, like when the assistant D.A. is telling the jury how you should get a five-to-ten stretch. “In the first place, understand one thing. I’m a very wealthy man. Slip up on me, play just one trick, and I have lawyers who will send you up for life — and that’s a guarantee! If you even claim to have talked with me, at any time in your lives, I’ll bring fifty witnesses to prove you were robbing a bank at the time. On the other hand, play straight with me, do your job well, and I’ll make you both rich. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Van Inkle!” Mr. O’Toole said briskly. “An’ I will state we are very honest crooks, which would greatly prefer gettin’ rich to gettin’ the book, so—”

Mr. Van Inkle was now gritting his large teeth so you could hear them and he was also getting very mad indeed, on account of his face was now the same color as the top of a turkey before they chop off his head.

“Damned strange procedure, all this is, I must say; but I’ve made stranger things work and I’ll make this work, too!” he grated, with an evil smile. “I live most of the time at Inklewold. You know the estate, of course. Drive it in an hour from here; O’Toole says he has a car. I never put a gate at the service entrance, thank fortune, so you’ll be able to coast in almost to the house.”

And now he started drumming on the table.

“My daughter, Aileen. Her... her personal jewels are worth half a million dollars!” he jerked out emotionally. “And they’re not in her safe-deposit box and haven’t been for a week. They’re hidden somewhere in the house. Not in her own suite, for I’ve had every corner of that combed over, and I’ve grilled her damned French maid, Annette, till she begged for mercy, too. Not in his room, either. That’s been searched. But, somewhere, he has them secreted!”

“I getcha,” Johnny Dolan said brightly. “An’ so, whoever this slug is, you wish us to hang him by the thumbs an’ stick lighted matches under his toenails, an everything like that, till he comes t’rough wit’ the stuff. Okay, chief! You could’a hunted a long time before findin’ any better two lads than us at—”

“Psst!” Mr. O’Toole interrupted. “It ain’t like that; it’s like this. It seems that Miss Aileen has fell greatly in love wit’ the head chuffer, a large, handsome lad named Miles Duncan, an’ Mr. Van Inkle has at last found out positive it is tonight they’re gonna elope, if possible, an’ so consequently you and me got—”

“Shut up!” Mr. Van Inkle barked, and now his little moustache was sticking out like the hairs on a cat, when you tie it to a hydrant and keep shoving a dog at it. “That is the situation. Here is how I mean to deal with it. I have kept Duncan, literally, in the house and made certain that he has sent out nothing. My daughter chooses to defy me. She has flatly refused to tell me anything about the matter since I... ah — um — questioned her last Sunday. I have stopped her allowance and tied up her personal funds; she has nothing whatever but the little fortune these jewels will bring, if they’re able to get them out of the house and sell them; and if they’re not able there’ll be no elopement!” Mr. Van Inkle hissed.

“I get it now, chief,” Johnny Dolan said, with a slight frown. “Only lissen. We stick a knife through this lob’s neck. Okay. Only are you sure you got the right spot picked to bury him, where the bulls—”

“Half past one! About half past one!” Mr. Van Inkle muttered, almost to himself. “From all I have pieced together, I’m positive they mean to start about half past one. Duncan’s room is at the top floor, rear. He’ll come down the main stairway to join her and when he does he’ll have those jewels on him and — here! Give me that filthy bill of fare.”

He snatched out a pencil and sketched rapidly.

“Look! Service drive here and here’s the smaller outside door to the cellar. I’ll unlock that myself. Cross to the stairs here and come out in the side corridor, here. Now! Along here to the back stairs and up to the main corridor on the second floor and here — right here — is a large closet. Odds and ends in there — some trunks full of books — I don’t know just what — plenty of room for you, anyway. Go in there and wait. Duncan will come down the stairs here and along here, to my daughter’s suite at the front. And when he does,” rattled out Mr. Van Inkle, “you’ll whisk out without a sound and garrote him! Choke him into insensibility; don’t let so much as one audible gasp get out of him. Go through him, get the jewels and disappear yourselves, like a pair of real ghosts. There will be no excitement; Duncan, I think, will never know quite what happened to him and there will be no elopement! I choose to deal with this matter, you see, in the slightly unusual way I find best!” Mr. Van Inkle concluded, comfortably, and it struck Johnny Dolan that this old guy must have quite a florist’s bill, the way he liked to chuck bouquets at himself.

He glanced at his watch and then turned up his collar, pulled down his hat and arose.

“The household is abed by eleven. I wish to get home before that. Be there by twelve. You’ll hide in the cellar when you’ve done your work and I’ll be down some time before dawn for the jewels. I will then give you the name of a man you may call upon tomorrow, who will hand you fifty thousand dollars in cash — because that is how I pay for a perfect job!... And if you should feel tempted to steal the jewels,” he smiled as he moved toward the door, “bear in mind that I’ll spend a million if necessary to catch you and send you up for life!”

It was quite wonderful, Johnny Dolan reflected as they rolled at last into the midnight blackness of the service drive, how a car like this one of Sniffy’s, which was built around 1700, could get this far. It was also quite wonderful thinking how this time tomorrow you would have twenty-five grand in your pants and — “Psst!” Mr. O’Toole said, slowing down, with two quick sniffs. “This is a very swell job I am lettin’ you in on — no risks, I mean, an’ I done all the preliminary work. So. how it looks to me, instead o’ splittin’ even we could say twenty grand for you an’ thirty for me, huh?”

“Hey, lissen!” Johnny Dolan began hotly — but just then the car bounced over a rock at the side and his head flew up and hit the hickory bow of the top, causing many stars to flash in front of his eyes. And it was very peculiar indeed, but it seemed that in some way this sock had started something spinning inside his dome! What he meant, here they would be hiding down this cellar for quite some time and—

“That is, supposin’ you would do all the real work in there, which of course you would not,” Mr. O’Toole pressed on ruthlessly. “So, since we will be workin’ together, the way I said, I will take thirty-five grand an’ you will take fifteen. Right?”

“Well — okay, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan said mildly.

Mr. O’Toole shot a sidelong glance at him, sniffed three times and cleared his throat.

“Or better yet, seein’ that wit’out me you would not be gettin’ a thin dime, we will say I have thirty-seven-five an’ you take twelve-five, Dolan. Okay?”

It so happened that whatever had started spinning inside Johnny Dolan’s dome, it was now spinning faster and faster. On account of... well, look!

Sniffy O’Toole never packed no rod, on account of he was very nervous about such things since they put his brother in the hot seat, but Johnny Dolan packed a very fine rod which Moey the Mutt had given him because there were a couple of chambers which for some reason refused to shoot.

So, getting back to the cellar, here would be him and Sniffy and all them jewels, with probably several hours to wait, so it would be very simple to get behind Sniffy and knock him cold with the butt of the rod and then, supposing he could find bags or something to muffle the shots, to put a couple of slugs through Sniffy’s coco and hide him under the coal. Then, when Mr. Van Inkle came down, he could say Sniffy had gone on home and tomorrow morning he could collect the fifty grand from this party, and it would be at least several days before you could notice anything in the cellar and—

“Psst, Dolan!” Mr. O’Toole said sharply. “Okay, I ast you?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Anything you say, pal,” Johnny Dolan replied.

“Okay, then!” Mr. O’Toole cried softly. “We will leave it like that — forty grand for me an’ ten for you, an’ you are certain’y gettin’ a wonderful break, sucker. An’ now we got that settled, from this point onwards, Dolan,” he chuckled softly, “we are, no kiddin’, the same as a couple o’ ghosts.”

Inkle-what’s-this, or whatever the old guy called it, was a very large house, Johnny Dolan observed, which looked somewhat like Birmingham Palace when you see it in the newsreel; but at that it had a little cellar door the same as any other house, and this was unlocked. Even with his five-and-ten flashlight, they could see the stairs far across the tremendous cellar — and there was really nothing whatsoever to getting to the second-floor corridor, which was maybe as wide as Fifth Avenue and had very large stairs leading downwards and also upwards, and was lighted only by a very small lamp at the one end.

“An’ this,” Mr. O’Toole whispered jubilantly, as he opened a door, “is the closet an’ it is now practically all over except gettin’ the fifty grand.”

Johnny Dolan flashed his light around again and, really, you would think people with servants would be ashamed to have a closet like this. What he meant, it was very untidy, with loose piles of books here and there and several trunks stuck in every which way, the extra large one, in fact, being tilted up with several books under one corner so a good push would have knocked it over.

“We have now got maybe an hour to wait,” Mr. O’Toole breathed on, “so leave the door slightly open an’ we will find a place to set, maybe over in this corner, huh?”

“Okay,” Johnny Dolan said, and turned quickly and — well, it was so very strange you could hardly describe it. What he meant, in turning it seemed he must somehow have struck this extra large trunk which was tilted on the books and started it tilting further, and it also seemed that Sniffy O’Toole must have been behind the trunk at this time, maybe leaning over or something.

So, anyhow, there was suddenly a very peculiar sound, like everything in the closet was sliding at once, and Sniffy O’Toole was making many strange noises, like: “Wah — wah — what the — wah—” And next there was a sort of soft, heavy “blong!” and Sniffy O’Toole said:

“Rrr — woof!”

That was all for the time being, except that Johnny Dolan finally found the button of his flashlight and turned it on — and, positively, you could not have helped laughing if it killed you, on account of there was Sniffy O’Toole on his back, with only his feet showing at the one end and his head showing at the other and this extra large trunk was laying flat on the rest of him!

And if you were not already in stitches at that, you would practically have died at the sight of Sniffy’s pan, once the light got on it. What Johnny Dolan meant, it was all blown out, like a couple of purple balloons and his eyes were also sticking that far out of his head you could have knocked them off with your finger!

“Dolan — y’ double-crossin’ little—” Mr. O’Toole gasped.

“Look, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan wheezed merrily, “you certain’y do not think I done that a-purpose, but you can be very thankful it fell on you like that, on account of if it had hit the floor it would have woke the whole house.”

“That is — one way lookin’ at it,” Mr. O’Toole squeezed out. “Lissen, Dolan. I... did not give you credit for that much — brains, but I get it. Okay. You win. I was only kiddin’, anyhow, when I spoke — that way about how we would split. What I mean, it is straight fifty-fifty, John, so now would you kindly lift off this damned trunk, on account of in maybe two minutes more I... will be dead.”

Johnny Dolan laid hands on it and tried to lift, and really you could never have believed anybody could get so much heavy stuff in one trunk, even supposing this was where the old palooka kept his spare anvils! What he meant, you could lift and lift and still it came up maybe only an inch and then—

“Dolan, y’ dirty little louse!” Mr. O’Toole strangled. “Ah... ah... lissen, Johnny, I didn’t mean to call you outen your name, but you ground the both feet offen me that time an’ — lissen, Johnny. We can now quit kid-din’ each other an’ say you take thirty grand an’ I take twenty, huh? So would you kindly lift this trunk? How it is, my two arms are pinned under me an’ I cannot move a muscle.”

“Well, look, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan puffed, “I am doin’ the best I can, only it seems this box is full o’ coal an’—”

“T’ hell wit’ arguin’!” Mr. O’Toole whined. “Call it forty-ten, me takin’ the ten, an’ now, for the luvva—”

“If you would kindly lay still till I see can I get my fingers under that edge up there by your neck,” Johnny Dolan suggested superfluously.

It seemed he was getting a good grip now. He pulled as hard as he could and the trunk came up one inch, two inches, five, six inches. You could hear Sniffy suck in his breath with a long gasp and — HEY! You could also hear something else; you could hear footsteps coming down them stairs!

Johnny Dolan stiffened and listened. There was no doubt whatsoever; the guy was coming down. Johnny Dolan hurriedly dropped the trunk and stepped to the crack of the door. Yeah! He was halfway down!

“Waah! D-D-D-Dolan!” Mr. O’Toole choked out, and as he turned the light on him for a second Johnny Dolan saw that his eyes were now crossed and his tongue was hanging from one corner of his mouth. “I... I... I cannot take no more! Lissen! Gimme just five grand — an’ — you—”

It seemed that at this point he must have fainted, or something. Johnny Dolan shook his head. He was slightly confused, to be sure, but this was really enough to exasperate a person. What he meant, Sniffy was known far and wide as not so reliable; but you never would have said he was one to leave a pal all alone, to choke a guy that might easy be seven feet tall.

At that, from what you could see through the crack in this very punk light, he was not such a big guy. He had no hat and he wore some kind of long coat. Also, he was now practically down the flight, so Johnny Dolan pushed open the door and dived at him, first giving him quite a sock in the back, where his head joined on to his body, and then getting him by the neck; and in two seconds he could have cheered, on account of it seemed this was one of them lugs which have no guts whatsoever!

What he meant, no sooner this party found he was getting choked than he gave a little squawk and went limp all over, pulling Johnny Dolan down with him. It also seemed they were much nearer the stairs than he had thought, on account of they had now both tripped and were suddenly rolling down the flight together, one over the other. And now, it seemed, they had reached the bottom and had somehow hit one of them large iron suits of armor, which immediately fell over with a very loud bang and came apart, with the pieces rolling away in every direction, until you would have thought a wagonful of tinware had just been hit by a train.

And lissen! It seemed, even in this bum light, as Johnny Dolan bounced to his feet, that maybe this was not the right party after all, on account of he did not look about to elope.

“Help!” he screamed as he lay there. “Help! Help!” — only before the first yip was really out of him Johnny Dolan was moving down the main corridor of Inklewold so fast that small rugs were flying out behind him the same as dust.

Not only was this a dead-end corridor, but right in front of him the door of a lighted room was open maybe a couple of inches and some dame was looking out at him and—

“Inside an’ close the door!” Johnny Dolan snarled, and thrust his gun into a tricky little white apron on a maid’s black uniform as he followed. “Lissen, baby! Y’aint heard nothin’ an’ y’aint heard nobody, know what I mean? One peep outen you an’—”

It seemed he positively could not go no further! What he meant, his heart had now jumped up into his throat and was beating so fast it made spots in front of his eyes and the top of his head felt like it was flapping up and down, the same as a lid on a pot when it boils — on account of there is beautiful dolls and there is beautiful dolls, but once you had looked at this judy you knew that all the other coupla billion dolls were just something to scare the children with!

She had hair the same as yellow silk; she had very large violet eyes with lashes maybe an inch long; she had... steps sounded outside and there was a sharp tapping on the door.

“Annette! Are you awyke?” a voice demanded. “This is Potter. ’Ave you ’eard anyone running down this wye? There’s a burglar in the ’ouse and he just attacked Mr. Gannon, the master’s secretary. Open up!”

This wonderful doll was now moistening her wonderful lips with her wonderful tongue.

“No, I do not hear somezing whatever,” she said. “And I do not open ze door. I am ondress.”

“ ’E must ’ave gone the h’other wye,” the voice said and the steps hurried on. The doll was now looking very scared at Johnny Dolan.

“You are — b-b-burglar?” she chattered.

“See, baby,” Johnny Dolan babbled tenderly, on account of the longer you looked at this doll the goofier you got in the dome, “don’t be scared. I ain’t no burglar. What I mean, you are the Van Inkle doll’s maid, huh? Well, I am simply hired here to see she does not fly the coop wit’ the chuffer an’ her jewels, see?”

The doll was now very rapidly getting not scared. Her eyes got smaller and smaller and she smiled.

“What ees zis you say?” she asked. “M’sieu Van Inkle pay you zat Mamzelle do not elope? I cannot believe!”

“Oh, no? Well, look, first off, on account of it could be I am talkin’ out o’ turn. Is it somethin’ to you, does she or don’t she elope?”

“To me? To me?” the wonderful doll cried, and threw up her hands. “To me is nossing whatever, so I... me! — get out of zis crazee house I say today, I have enough, I go. She say, no, you stay! I say, no, I go, for you are crazee, I say, and your papa ees crazee, and I stay longer I am crazee myself. She say no, no, no, and ees very crazee again herself — so I go like zis, in middle of night,” she shrugged and pointed at a big suitcase.

“I get it, kid,” Johnny Dolan gurgled. “You are also flyin’ the coop. Gonna walk?”

“No, I do not walk. Ze... ze second chauffeur, M’sieu Paul, he take me to rain. He ees — what you say? — good guy, zis Paul. He get catch, he weel be fired. I... I go now through window,” she finished, with an odd glance at Johnny Dolan.

“Lissen, baby,” he drooled huskily, “I do not understand it myself, but it seems that somehow I have fell greatly in love wit’ you even in this coupla minutes, so I gotta see more o’ you, so where is it you go from here, kid?”

The little frog was now looking at him very surprised and somewhat peculiar. What he meant, her eyes were now sparkling very bright and intelligent, so you could see he was already making a great hit.

“Oh — I zink I go live wiz my sees-taire till I find othair job,” she murmured. “But I... I zink I should not tell you where zis ees for—”

“I get it, baby. Leave it lay like that,” Johnny Dolan panted on. “So how’s it for meetin’ me outside the Public Libery tomorrow night at eight, huh?”

It really seemed like she could no longer take her eyes from him which certainly showed you he was making more and more of a hit.

“Attends, m’sieu!” she said swiftly. “I weel meet you, yes, eef you will help me now to leave zis crazee place. It ees like zis: Paul say he theenk we mus’ push ze car a leetle way up ze service drive, so they do not hear ze engine start. I am not so beeg enough to push, but you — you, m’sieu, have ze great strength—”

“Say no more, baby!” Johnny Dolan cried gladly, as he snatched up the grip and opened the window. “Where is the slug an’ the bus?”

The wonderful doll was now hurrying into a light coat.

“Oh, darlink, you are ze — how do you say? — saver of life,” she breathed unsteadily and all but knocked him senseless with her eyes. “And now, once more, attends, if you please. We step from window to ground, but zen I mus’ go ahead a leetle. Paul, he ees nairvous and eef he see you and do not know who you are, he may do—, who knows what? So you follow and when I find heem I give little whistle — yes?”

“Yeah, only wait, baby!” Johnny Dolan said masterfully, as she threw one slim leg over the sill. “Before startin’, one kiss, huh?”

Well, you could tell how careful this doll was brought up by how scared she suddenly looked and the way she shut her teeth. Then, simply showing you what a hit the right guy can make with the right doll in five minutes:

“At... at zat, I zink you have eet coming!” she sort of gasped, closing her eyes tight so, naturally, he could not see all that was in them.

He had now been laying maybe twenty minutes on the grass beside the service drive and it seemed he could at last breathe again and even sit up. What he meant, you would never think a roadster that size would weigh six or seven tons and you would never think this service drive was steeper than Mike’s Peak. This Paul number, who said practically nothing, was quite washed up when they finally got to the level and started the engine and Johnny Dolan was the same as if he had been dipped in a tub of water — but so what? So any party which wished could give the razz to storology, but when this book stated you would be successful in your love affairs between ten and three — zowie!

The lights in the big house were now getting turned off again one by one and it seemed the excitement was dying down. Johnny Dolan giggled happily as he got to his feet. It could be the old palooka was quite sore about the slight mistake that had got made on his secretary, but at that everything was okay. What he meant, the Van Inkle doll and her boy friend would now probably wait at least another hour, till everybody was asleep again. He stole back to Annette’s room and listened; he climbed in and opened the door and listened again. Everything was nice and quiet. He glided up the back stairs. Everything was still nice and quiet. He glided into the closet.

“D-Dolan!” came faintly from under the trunk. “Is that — you?”

“Absolutely, Sniffy,” said Johnny Dolan, “so I will now lift—”

“Lissen, Dolan,” Mr. O’Toole croaked weakly, “I think it is too late, on account of I have been hear in’ noises like angels singin’ for several minutes now. So you will take the fifty grand, Dolan, only many’s the night you will be tryin’ to forget how you double-crossed a pal, an’ that will be impossible, on account of I will come back an’ haunt you an’—”

“Aw, save it, Sniffy!” Johnny Dolan whispered gaily. “How I feel at present, I am lucky if I do not chuck this trunk right across the hall. Hold it, kid, till I toss the box offen you.”

It was very strange, how you could lift this trunk, once you were greatly in love. The first pull, and it came a good foot offen Sniffy’s chest and you could hear the punk starting to gargle like he was taking in air again and — huh?

“I am very sorry, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan hissed hurriedly, and dropped the trunk as gently as possible, “but it seems the lad is comin’ downstairs at last.”

You really had to hand it to this Duncan guy, having the brains to start off at this time, just when they would not be expecting no more excitement for a while. Johnny Dolan squinted through the crack. This was him, all right. He had on an overcoat and a cloth hat, pulled down on this side and — really, he was that full of vim and vitality, he hardly knew he was doing it, but Johnny Dolan shot out of the closet and through the air, almost like a bird, his hands reaching for this Duncan’s neck.

Furthermore, he had his fingers around it and — well, it was very surprising indeed, but it seemed he must have put a little too much on the ball! The two of them were rolling down together, first one on top and then the other on top and this Duncan trying to sock him all the time and also using language you would never expect to hear from a decent person.

And still furthermore, there was another of them damned iron armor suits on the other side of the stairs and it seemed they were going to take this one head-on and — maybe two seconds, as he lay on his back, Johnny Dolan could see this large helmet leaning over nearer and nearer to him, exactly like the guy inside was saying: “What’s the big idea, punk?” and then it fell off and pasted him right between the eyes and—

It seemed there were many millions of stars, which presently faded out. It seemed there was a large bump, like a horn, on his forehead and he was scrambling to his feet and still looking at this guy in the cloth hat. And, no kidding whatsoever, he was that ashamed he could have gone down through the floor, but this party with the cloth hat which he had just choked was Mr. Van Inkle himself. He stood there now with his jaw stuck out, smiling very peculiar indeed.

“So you’re the burglar, are you?” he said, and even if his voice was quiet you could tell he was slightly mad. “I was just going to look around for you outside.”

“Well, lissen, Mr. Van Inkle,” Johnny Dolan said, “I am certain’y very sorry I give you the neck by mistake, but if you will kindly sneak back to bed, it can easy be everything is still under control an’—”

He cut it short; they were no longer talking private. Some party with little side-whiskers was hurrying downstairs in his bathrobe.

“You... you’ve got one of ’em, sir? God save us and keep us, you’re not injured, sir?” this one panted. “Mr. Van Inkle, there’s two of ’em, sir. I just found the h’other ’iding in the ’all closet above, sir — under a trunk full of books, of h’all places, and pretending ’e’s h’asleep, sir, and—”

“Go telephone for the troopers, Potter,” Mr. Van Ingle said, and continued to smile this same peculiar way at Johnny Dolan. “So you’re the... well, what the devil’s all the row above?”

How it sounded, there was a slight wrestling match in the upstairs hall and then some dame with a voice like a crow screamed:

“Cochon! Take ze hands from me, I tell you! Yes, I go to ze old man wiz you. He throw me from the house, I laugh — ha! ha! You hear me? I laugh — ha! ha! ha! Because for loaf one shall lose not ze job, not even ze life. For loaf, one shall lose ze whole world — and laugh — ha! ha! ha! ha!”

You could now see her coming down the stairs with this pretty young Mr. Gannon which Johnny Dolan had first choked by mistake. He was wearing his spectacles again and it seemed he was all hot and bothered. This dame with him was positively something you would have to go to the drugstore and get something for your eyes, after looking at her! What Johnny Dolan meant, she had a squint and a large nose and feet the size of rowboats. She was quite small, and the silk robe she had wrapped around her was much too big for her.

“I... I’ve got to the bottom of it, sir! To the bottom of it!” this Gannon puffed. “Here’s Annette.”

“Hey, lissen,” Johnny Dolan said, and he really had to laugh, “that out o’ the funnies looks as much like Annette as a cow looks like—”

“You see, sir,” the secretary was rushing on, “I finally got into Duncan’s room, when there was no answer to my repeated knocking. His bed has not been slept in, his two suitcases are missing and — so is he, sir! He slid from his window on a rope and the rope is still hanging there.”

“What?” Mr. Van Inkle cried, and started to turn white. He was furious!

“Precisely, sir! And then I took the liberty of... er... going to Miss Van Inkle’s room. The door was not locked and I made so bold as to tiptoe in and look, because she seemed to be in bed and asleep. She was not, sir!” Mr. Gannon cried dramatically. “Annette, here, was in her bed! The scheme, no doubt was to give the impression that Miss Van Ingle herself was there.”

“Oui, m’sieu, and it was vairee good scheme indeed, I zink,” this funny-looking dame laughed very defiant. And suddenly, Johnny Dolan began to feel very queer in the dome, on account of you would think these guys certainly must know this headache was not Annette, and at the same time they kept acting like she was. “For loaf, m’sieu, one does strange zings, ees it not? So tonight I steal to Mamzelle’s room and we change ze clothes, do you see? And she steal down to my room, m’sieu, and she ees not discover I zink, for now it would seem zey are a long time gone. Loaf, m’sieu — loaf, I say! — ees make again ze triomphe, even over you who have ze great power, ze great money, ze—”

The corridor, Johnny Dolan noted dizzily, had now started jumping up and down in front of him, on account of it seemed this Paul was not any Paul, but the Duncan number, and this pipperino which said she was Annette was not Annette and would consequently not be seeing him at eight tomorrow night. Only you would say the old palooka would open his chest and pin back the ears of this moll who, the way it began to look, had helped his daughter fly the coop. Instead, he just kept looking through two little slits at Johnny Dolan and getting whiter and whiter, and the way his teeth started to grind, you would say somebody was filing off a padlock.

“Potter — turn that other one over to the troopers,” he gritted out. “I want to — want to talk to this young man in private. Come!” he said to Johnny Dolan.

He took Johnny Dolan’s arm and led him off to the rear, and you would really be surprised how a guy that old could have such fingers, which passed through the muscles and simply grabbed the bone. He led Johnny Dolan down another corridor and into a large room, all books and big chairs. He locked the door and dropped the key in his pocket. Next he opened a window and, standing before it, took several deep breaths. Then he slipped out of his overcoat and you saw all he had on underneath was pants and a low cut undershirt. He had the same kind of arms you see on a piano mover and a very large chest, like a beer keg.

“I could send you up, but this will do me more good!” he said, in a funny whisper.

“Now, lissen, Mr. Van Inkle,” Johnny Dolan began soothingly, because things here did not look so hot, “if you are slightly sore on account of—”

He had to leave it lay at that. What he meant, this flat iron, or whatever it was Mr. Van Inkle had hidden in his hand, had just hit Johnny Dolan’s nose, and there were a billion stars and he could feel his nose going out through the back of his head. And he had somehow hit the wall and then bounced forward again, and in bouncing forward his right eye had met up with this same flat iron and there was another billion stars, and in maybe a split second his left eye also hit the same flat iron and there were still another billion! And it seemed the old palooka also had a sledgehammer which now came up and hit Johnny Dolan’s chin, knocking his head completely off his shoulders and sending him spinning across the room and — it seemed he was whirling at this open window and could not stop. It seemed that he had now fallen out and in some way he was running along the grass on all fours like a dog, on account of Sniffy O’Toole’s car was somewheres over this way. It seemed that behind him Mr. Van Inkle was screaming:

“Why the hell didn’t I close that window, the—” and after that he used words which you would never have thought a person like him would know.

Mr. James (Red) Binney was just preparing to close his little establishment for a few hours, when it entered. Mr. Binney stood petrified. Its nose seemed to be spread all over its face. It had a great lump in the middle of its forehead. Where it should have had two eyes, it had two huge purple mounds, although there was a small slit in the right one through which it could probably see. Only after a full minute did Mr. Binney recognize it as Johnny Dolan.

“Well, for the luvva tripe!” Mr. Binney breathed. “An’ so that is what happens when a guy stops one o’ them streamlined trains wit’ his pan, is it?”

“Lissen, Red, an’ kindly lay offen the wisecracks,” Johnny Dolan said with some difficulty, on account of it is quite hard to talk when your neck has been broken and you have to breathe through what is left of your mouth. “Gimme this, now, Seven-X bottle an’ a large glass an’—”

He stopped suddenly, peering through the slit above his right eye. A chinless, smiling youth had just shuffled in and was waving a hand, but the hand was hardly in the air before Johnny Dolan hurtled across the place and landed on top of him. He squealed and collapsed with a crash and Johnny Dolan, astride his chest, went to work on his teeth, removing several — on his eyes, closing both of them — on his nose, flattening it like his own. He was about to pound the flesh off the cheekbones when Mr. Binney hauled him away. The chinless youth lay peacefully still.

“Lissen, Dolan, have you gone completely nuts?” Mr. Binney puffed. “That is Pinhead McGovern, which never hurt a fly in his life!”

“Okay! I am no fly!” Johnny Dolan panted. “So what? So who is it nicks me for thirty cents for this storology book which says what is gonna happen between ten an’ three? So I am tellin’ you who it is! Pinhead McGovern!”