Fast Buck

I

Rain ran in the gutters and dripped from the trees that lined the broad Roosevelt Boulevard. The street lamps made wet pools on the glistening sidewalk. An occasional car swished past, its headlamps lighting up the driving rain.

Adam Gillis stood under a tree, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his shabby mackintosh, his soggy felt hat pulled down over his eyes.

He didn’t appear to notice the heavy rain or the fact that he was soaked to the skin. He was concentrating on Kile’s house, a big, double-fronted mansion, its lower windows ablaze with light.

They won’t be much longer, he told himself. Nothing like a policeman for getting some fast action. A little too fast, if anything, he thought, as he remembered he had only just left the pay booth and had taken cover in a dark doorway before a couple of prowl boys had arrived. Lieutenant Olin certainly knew his business. He had tried to keep him talking while he had sent his men to pick him up.

When the prowl car had gone, Gillis had taken a taxi to Roosevelt Boulevard hoping to be there in time to see the result of his anonymous call to Olin.

He had had to wait longer than he expected. He wasn’t to know Olin had had difficulty in finding a judge to sign the necessary search warrant at that time of night.

Gillis had twenty minutes to wait in the rain before he saw the red light of a police car coming swiftly up the boulevard.

He drew back out of sight as the car pulled up outside Kile’s house. He watched Olin and two detectives mount the steps and ring on the front-door bell. He saw them admitted, and the door close behind them.

The driver of the police car remained with the car, and prevented Gillis from getting nearer to the house in the hope of looking through a window to see what was going on. He had to content himself with waiting in the rain. He didn’t have long to wait. The front door suddenly opened, and Olin came out, followed by Kile, then by the two detectives.

Kile had on a hat and coat. He walked unsteadily, his head held low. One of the detectives had to help him into the car. Olin got in beside him and the detective got in beside the driver. The car moved off, leaving the remaining detective to return to the house.

Gillis had a good view of Kile as the car went past. Kile’s face was white, and his eyes stared fixedly at the back of the driver’s head. He seemed suddenly to have become an old man.

Gillis felt a wave of satisfaction run through him as he watched the car turn the bend and disappear.

Well, at least, he thought, that’s one untidy end snipped off.

He had spent his last dollar on the taxi fare to Kile’s house, but he wasn’t despondent. He knew Eve had money at her apartment, and it would be easy enough to get it out of her. It was a long walk to Roxborough Avenue, but he was in a jovial mood and he strode along briskly. Maybe tonight would be the last time he would have to walk anywhere. From now on, if his luck held, it would be taxis until he got his own car.

He entered Eve’s apartment block, rode up in the elevator and rang the front-door bell. Water dripped from his sodden mackintosh on to the mat, and squelched in his shoes, but he didn’t care. With his mind full of his future plans, he had never felt better in his life.

Eve came to the door. She started violently when she saw him, alarm jumping into her eyes.

‘Oh, Adam! What are you doing here? How wet you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

‘I was going to suggest it,’ Gillis said, with his most charming smile. ‘It’s raining Great Danes and Ginger Toms, and I couldn’t find a taxi.’

He entered the cosy sitting-room and took off his hat and coat.

‘I’m afraid I’m going to make a bit of a mess,’ he said apologetical y. ‘Shal I take these things into the bathroom?’

‘I don’t think you’d better, Adam. I’m expecting Preston,’ Eve said uneasily. ‘He phoned this evening to say he was coming. I thought it was he when you rang.’

Gillis smiled.

‘You don’t have to worry about Preston. He won’t be coming. He has a much more pressing appointment.’ He crossed the room to the door leading to the bathroom. ‘I think I’ll take a bath. I don’t want to catch cold.’

‘How do you know Preston won’t come?’ Eve asked sharply.

‘I’ll tel you al about it when I’ve had a bath,’ Gil is said. ‘There’s plenty of time.’

He went into the bathroom and locked himself in. He took a bath, lying in the hot water for some time, enjoying the luxury of it. Then he shaved, using Kile’s razor, and put on the dark blue quilted dressing-gown that Eve had left outside the door, and re-entered the sitting-room.

‘That’s much better,’ he said, going over to the electric fire Eve had turned on. He sat in an easy chair before the fire. ‘A whisky and soda would be welcome if you can run to it.’

Eve brought him the drink and sat opposite him. Her face was white and strained, and she looked searchingly at him.

‘What has happened to Preston?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid he’s in trouble,’ Gil is said. He drank some of the whisky. ‘Good stuff this.’ He leaned forward to read the label on the bottle. ‘I must get some for myself.’

‘Adam! What has happened to Preston?’

He looked at her, smiling.

‘I told you: he’s in trouble. I think it’s very unlikely you’l be bothered with him again.’

‘But what happened?’ Her voice was sharp-edged as she leaned forward. ‘Why is he in trouble?’

‘The police found out about the bracelet,’ he said, shrugging. ‘They arrested him about half an hour ago.’

‘Adam! You told them about it!’

‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t,’ Gil is lied. ‘I must admit I’ve been tempted to do so several times, but in view of what’s just happened, I’m glad I didn’t.’

‘What wil they do with him?’

‘I imagine he’l get ten years. Why should you care? He’ll be out of the way for some time,’ Gillis said, finished his drink and offered the glass to her. ‘Would you like to mix me another? And if you have a cigarette?’

She made another drink, gave it to him, and put a box of cigarettes where he could reach them. He lit up, stretched out his long legs and sighed contentedly.

‘This is the life, pet,’ he said. You’re lucky. You may not believe it, but I often wish I had been a girl.

I’d have enjoyed being some old fool’s kept darling.’

Eve shuddered, but she didn’t say anything.

‘By the way, did Preston tell you what happened at the shooting-lodge?’ Gil is asked, after a long pause.

‘He didn’t go into details,’ Eve said, looking down at her hands. ‘He said he hadn’t been successful.’

‘That’s rather an understatement,’ Gil is said. ‘The whole thing was a complete flop.’

She didn’t say anything or look at him,

‘You don’t seem particularly concerned,’ Gillis said, watching her narrowly. ‘After al , you’ve lost a quarter of a million, haven’t you?’

‘Have I?’ she asked, and looked up to meet his eyes. ‘I didn’t count on getting it, Adam. Come to that, you don’t seem particularly concerned, either.’

‘You wouldn’t have said that the night before last,’ Gillis said, and laughed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in such a rage. I had everything so well worked out, Preston was marching up and down outside the lodge in a perfect fever, and I was crouching behind a bush, also in a fever. We waited hours, and nothing happened. Then Preston turned on the radio, and we heard the details of the escape. They said Hater had stolen a police launch. We waited and waited, but Baird didn’t show up. I nearly tore my hair out I was so angry.’

Eve got up and began to move around the room aimlessly. Her silence irritated Gillis.

‘You don’t seem very interested,’ he said sharply. ‘After all, we were working on this together.’

‘We weren’t working together, Adam. I behaved like a weak fool and did what you told me to do. All along I thought the idea was crazy, and I’m glad it didn’t come off.’

Gillis shrugged.

‘You’re a funny girl,’ he said, blowing smoke to the ceiling. ‘We could have snapped our fingers at the world with half a million in our pockets. You don’t seem to realise what you’ve lost.’

‘I think I do, but I’ve gained much more.’

‘Nice to have such a placid philosophy. Well, I wasn’t wrong about Baird. I told you he could do anything if he put his mind to it.’

‘Eight men lost their lives through him. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘Should it?’ he said, mildly surprised. ‘It’s what they were paid for. If a man’s mug enough to be a prison guard, he must expect to run risks.’

‘What do you think has happened to Hater?’ she asked, turning away so he shouldn’t see her disgust.

‘I imagine Baird’s hanging on to him,’ Gillis said, frowning. ‘There was always the possibility that Baird would deal direct with the Rajah. I’m afraid that’s what he’s going to do. It won’t be easy for him.

The police are hunting for him for Zoe Norton’s murder. But if he can get to the Rajah, the Rajah will do a deal with him.’

‘When you found out that Baird had tricked you,’ Eve said quietly, ‘I suppose you decided Preston was of no further use, and you gave him away to the police?’

Gillis looked at her, his eyes cynically amused.

‘Do you real y want to know, pet? Wouldn’t your silly conscience be happier if you didn’t know?’

‘I want to know.’

‘Then you shall. You’re quite right. You’ve said all along you want to be rid of Kile. I phoned Olin and told him he’d find Jean Bruce’s bracelet in Kile’s safe. He went along and found it. So now you don’t have to worry about Kile any more.’

‘So I’m to blame, real y?’

‘Well, I suppose you are,’ Gil is said, and laughed. ‘I certainly wouldn’t have bothered to phone Olin if you were still anxious to remain Kale’s mistress. But as you aren’t, I thought I’d better do something about it. After all, Eve, you’ve helped me in the past. The least I could do was to help you when the opportunity arose.’

‘Are you sure it wasn’t because Baird tricked you?’ Eve said quietly. ‘Are you sure you didn’t round on Kile in a moment of spite because you had to work off your temper on someone, and he was the least likely to hit back?’

For a moment Gillis’s face hardened, but he quickly controlled himself, and burst out laughing.

‘You certainly know me, don’t you, Eve? You’re absolutely right I was livid at the time. Everything was going so well. Yes, I under-estimated that sonofabitch. I thought he was a gun-happy thug without any brains. But he beat me to it. I admit it. He even got paid to get Hater out of the swamp, and then he calmly walked off with him, and will probably do a deal with the Rajah and pocket the half million.

Well, I’ve got over it now. I’ve other ideas: not quite so lucrative, but definitely more promising.’

It had always been the same, Eve thought bitterly. He was forever working on some new idea to get rich quickly. Nothing discouraged him. As soon as one idea petered out, he began working on another.

He would go to endless trouble to try to make money out of his crack-pot schemes, although he wouldn’t stir a finger to get himself a job that would bring him in a legitimate income.

‘I think I’ll go to bed now,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’m tired. You can stay here for the night if you want to.’ ‘I was going to suggest it,’ he said, smiling. ‘But don’t run away just yet. I want to talk to you about my new idea. By the way, pet, how are you off for money?’

‘How much do you want?’

He sat up, his face suddenly ugly with rage.

‘Don’t keep assuming I’m going to sponge on you, damn you!’ he said. ‘I’m asking you how much longer you can keep this apartment on now you haven’t Kile to pay the bil s?’

‘I shall go back to the Follies,’ she said. ‘I shan’t stay here. If you want any money, I can let you have fifty dollars.’

‘I don’t want your money,’ he said shortly. ‘Now look, let’s be sensible about this. There’s no point in going back to the Follies. Besides, you don’t know if they’l have you back.’ He got up and poured himself another whisky. ‘As a matter of fact, the Rajah has taken a fancy to you.’

Eve stood motionless, looking at Gillis.

‘What did you say?’

‘The Rajah’s taken a fancy to you,’ Gil is said, his smile becoming fixed. ‘He would like you to go back with him to Chittabad. I promised to talk it over with you.’

Eve went a shade paler.

‘I don’t understand. Do you know him? How did you come to meet him?’

Gillis waved an airy hand.

‘Why, of course I know him. I met him in India. As a matter of fact, I did him one or two little services: nothing very grand, but he was impressed by my usefulness.’

‘You mean you introduced him to some white women who were accommodating?’

Gillis lost his smile.

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ he said curtly. ‘I just happened to be useful. I forget what I did. We became friendly and he told me about the collection. Between us we engineered the plan to get hold of Hater.’

‘Oh, I see. Then why did you bring Preston and me into it? I always thought it was odd the Rajah saw me so easily. You had arranged all that before you told me to go and see him?’

‘Of course,’ Gil is said, poured whisky into his glass and sipped it. ‘We decided it would be safer to have a stooge in case things went sour on us. That’s why we picked on Kile. We were just safeguarding ourselves. That’s all.’

‘I see.’ She began to move around the room again. ‘You didn’t bother about what would happen to me if things went sour, as you call it.’

‘Oh, rot! Nothing was likely to happen to you. We knew that. The police wouldn’t be interested in you.’

‘If Preston had told them it was my idea — as he thought it was — they might have been,’ Eve said, going to the window and pushing back the curtain to look down at the rain-soaked street.

‘I knew Kile was too much of a gentleman to implicate you,’ Gil is said easily. ‘I had it all planned pretty neatly. It was just bad luck it flopped. Anyway, that’s all ancient history now. You’ve got your future to think of. The Rajah will make you a settlement.’

She didn’t say anything or look round.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Gil is demanded, raising his voice.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve persuaded him to be pretty generous. Of course he’s not as rich as he was, and this Hater business has rather put a spoke in his wheel, but he’s still got plenty,’ Gil is went on. ‘You’l like the life out there. Of course women don’t get quite so much freedom as here, but there are other compensations.

He’s got a magnificent palace, and he still owns a lot of diamonds and jewelery. He’ll want you to wear them.’

‘I was under the impression he was married,’ Eve said, still with her back turned.

Gillis laughed.

‘Well, you know what these Rajahs are,’ he said. ‘It won’t make any difference to you. They look on these things differently out there. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Anyway, his present wife’s not a patch on you.’

She didn’t say anything.

‘He’s going to stay here for one more week in the hope Baird’ll get in touch with him. He’ll be sailing on the 30th. We’ll travel with him. You’ll enjoy it, Eve. Everything first class, and he’ll give you a pretty substantial cheque for an outfit. He likes his women to look smart.’

‘He is giving you a job, then, Adam?’

‘Well , of course. I’m going to be his confidential secretary. The pickings should be pretty good.

You’ll find that out, too. Of course it won’t be a permanent thing. I don’t think the chap will last much more than five or six years at the rate he’s spending his money. But you and I will be able to feather our nests pretty well by then.’

‘I’m glad you’ve got a job, Adam. I hope you’ll be very successful, and have a lot of pickings.’

He looked at her slim back suspiciously.

‘I’ll take good care I am successful,’ he said shortly. ‘But never mind about me. I told him you’d cal at his hotel tomorrow and have lunch with him. Naturally he’s anxious to get to know you as soon as possible.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint him, but I won’t be able to go,’ Eve said, still with her back turned.

‘But you can’t have anything more important to do than to see him,’ Gil is said sharply. ‘You must go.’

She turned then, and he was startled to see how white she was, and how her eyes glittered.

‘Do you realise what you are suggesting?’ she asked, in a cold, level ed voice. ‘Do you realise this man’s coloured?’

‘Now, please don’t be ridiculous,’ Gil is said. ‘The Rajah’s a high-born gentleman. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge.’

‘That doesn’t make the slightest difference to me. Anyway, even if he wasn’t coloured, the answer’s still no. I’m going back to the Fol ies. I’ve had enough of this kind of life.’

‘My dear girl, I doubt if the Follies would have you. There’ll be a hell of a scandal when the press hear Kile’s been arrested. I can’t imagine the Follies will want the discarded mistress of a jail-bird decorating their theatre.’

She looked away, biting her lip, her hands clenched into tight fists.

‘Now, look, do be sensible, Eve,’ Gil is said, pressing his advantage. ‘See the Rajah tomorrow. He’s got a lot of charm. He won’t rush you. Maybe on the boat you’l be expected to do your job, but certainly not until you get on the boat.’

‘You’d better go, Adam,’ she said, without looking at him.

He stared at her, startled.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I say. I don’t want to see you again. I’ve been trying to make up my mind to end our sordid association for weeks, but I’ve never had the courage. But I have now. There was a time, Adam, when I loved you. I was ready to do anything for you, but you’ve killed all that. Looking at you now, I can’t understand why I have been such an utter fool. Well, I’m glad you’ve got a job. I’m glad you’re going to India. We needn’t meet again. I sincerely hope we don’t.’ She turned back to the window. ‘Please go now.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eve,’ Gil is said, with an uneasy laugh, ‘You don’t mean it. As soon as I get home you’ll cal me up as you always do. Let’s get down to earth. This is a chance of a lifetime for both of us.’

‘Will you please go?’

There was something in her voice that made him realise suddenly that she meant what she said. He experienced a sick, empty feeling of rage.

‘Now, look here, Eve,’ he said, his voice sharpening, ‘this has gone far enough! You can’t do this to me! You’ve just got to do what I tel you. I won’t get the job if you don’t. It is because the Rajah wants you, he’s giving me the job. Don’t you understand? I don’t mind telling you he was livid with me because I let Baird trick me. He wouldn’t believe it wasn’t my fault. If I hadn’t thought of you, he was going to prosecute me. I’ve signed one or two of his blasted cheques, and he’s found out. He could send me to jail, Eve! Don’t you understand? It was only because I promised you’d be nice to him, he’s withdrawn the charges. You’ve got to…’

‘Get out!’ Eve said, turning. ‘I never want to see you again!’

‘Oh, no!’ Gil is said, his face flushing, ‘you’re not going to talk to me like this. I’ll go when I damn well want to. You’re going to listen to me or you’ll be sorry!’

‘If you don’t get out I’ll cal the janitor and have you thrown out!’

‘You won’t!’ Gil is snarled, turning from red to white. ‘What you want is a damn good hiding! You’ll get it too if you don’t do what I tel you. I’m not going to lose a perfectly good job because you’re suddenly squeamish about the colour of a man’s skin. That cat won’t jump.’

‘There’s a name they call men like you,’ Eve said quietly, ‘and it isn’t a pretty one.’ She walked over to the telephone. ‘Are you going?’

‘No, I’m not!’ Gil is said, and started around the table towards her. ‘I’ve warned you. Put that phone down or you’ll be sorry.’

Eve hurriedly began to dial the janitor’s number. Gil is reached her and wrenched the phone out of her hand. She gave him a violent and heavy slap across his face.

Not knowing quite what he was doing, but too viciously furious to think or care, Gillis snatched up the whisky bottle and smashed it down on top of her head.

II

Baird sat at the wheel of the Packard, driving with one hand. His left arm hung uselessly at his side. It was swollen now to twice its normal size, and the forearm was black and green.

Sweat ran off him as if he had had a sponge of water squeezed over him. His body shook with extreme rigor, and every muscle ached. He drove the car automatically along the broad highway. Only his will-power kept him upright at the wheel.

At that hour — it was three o’clock in the morning — there was no traffic on the road, and he could keep the car moving without having to slow down or manipulate the gears.

He had long lost all sense of time. He knew he was dangerously ill. He knew, too, his arm was so badly infected that he would probably lose it. He had decided to die rather than stop and seek help.

Somehow he had managed to carry Hater from the police launch to where he and Rico had hidden the car. He had dumped Hater on the floor of the car, behind the driving seat, and had covered him with a blanket. Then he had changed his wet camouflage suit, taking a change of dry clothes from the suitcase.

He now wore his jacket slung cape-wise over his shoulders, as he had found it impossible to get his coat sleeve over his swollen arm.

He had set out for the long drive to the shooting-lodge. It was during the drive the fever that had taken hold of him became worse. He felt hot and cold in turns, and he began to shiver violently. When it came to the time to turn off the highway to the back roads that would take him to the shooting-lodge, his mind couldn’t cope with the change of direction. The broad highway out of Louisiana seemed now so uncomplicated and easy to drive on that he gave up the idea of going to the shooting-lodge.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was dying, and he was seized by an obsession to see Anita Jackson before he died. The attraction he had felt for the girl now dominated his mind, and it was this obsession to see her again that gave him the strength to stay at the wheel.

Hour after hour passed. He stopped only for gas, pulling up at isolated service stations, and getting away again as soon as the tank was filled, without leaving the car.

He was beyond noticing the curious looks the service station attendants gave him. Those who were able to get a good look at him were startled by his ravaged face and sickened by the putrefying stench that came from his arm. They stared after the car, wondering if they should report what they had seen to the police, but finally deciding it wasn’t their business.

Baird had forgotten Hater. His mind was confused by his raging fever, and he couldn’t remember what he was doing on this broad highway, or even how he had injured his arm. Anita’s face floated before his eyes as he drove and sustained him, giving him the will to keep the car moving.

Seventeen hours of non-stop driving brought him to the City limits of Essex City. He was driving more slowly now, as he had difficulty in keeping his eyes properly focused.

Heavy rain clouds had brought darkness early. Although it was only just after eight o’clock, Baird had turned on his headlights. The highway seemed to him to be rising and falling in the beams of the headlights, and he had a crazy idea that the road must be floating on a rough sea. Every so often he was startled to find the car was wandering on to the wrong side of the road, and he hurriedly twisted the wheel to bring it straight. He only just averted an accident when a car overtook him and passed him with a furious blast of its horn.

He slowed down almost to a crawl. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them smart, and he was aware now of the smell from his arm, and it frightened him.

He kept going somehow. A few miles farther on, he vaguely remembered he had to turn right into the Paseo. Even at fifteen miles an hour he was having difficulty in keeping the car straight.

Behind him he suddenly heard the sharp note of a police siren. Immediately his confused and tired brain galvanised itself into life. This was the one sound that could jerk him out of his coma back to comparatively rational thinking. He looked quickly into his driving mirror. Behind him, coming up fast, was the large, glaring headlamp of a motor-cycle. A moment later a prowl cop drew level and signalled him to stop.

Baird pulled over to the grass verge. He braked, forgetting to throw out his clutch, and the car engine stalled. The car came to a wobbly stop, its off-side wheels bumping up on to the grass.

The cop pulled up beside him.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he demanded in a loud, bul ying voice. ‘Been drinking?’

Baird groped down by his side. His fingers closed around the butt of the Colt. He leaned against the car door, peering up at the cop’s red, angry face.

The cop flashed a fight on Baird. He caught his breath sharply.

‘Jeepers! What the hel ’s the matter with you? You ill?’

‘Yeah,’ Baird gasped. ‘But I’l be al right. Just leave me alone, wil you? I’m going to see a friend of mine. She’l take care of me.’

‘You ain’t fit to drive,’ the cop said. ‘What’s happened to you to get into this state?’

‘Infected arm,’ Baird told him. ‘I’l be okay if you’l leave me alone.’

‘You’re not going to drive another yard. Move over. I’m going to take you to hospital,’ the cop said, and pulled open the car door.

Baird, who was leaning against the door, nearly fell into the road, but the cop caught hold of him and lifted him upright. Baird pushed the Colt into the cop’s stomach and pul ed the trigger twice.

The roar of the gun hit Baird like a physical blow. He had to grab hold of the door to save himself from falling out of the car.

The cop reeled back, his hands pressing his belly. He fell slowly on his knees, then straightened out in the road.

In saving himself from falling, Baird dropped the Colt on to the grass verge. He had only a vague idea he had lost something that was important to him, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He managed to slam the door shut, and somehow start the engine going again. With a clash of gears he sent the Packard lurching forward once more.

After he had been driving a few minutes, he completely forgot about the cop. It was as if the accident had never happened, and his fever-ridden mind returned to thinking about Anita.

He was on more familiar ground now. He turned off the Paseo on to Armour Boulevard, through to Broadway, up Summit Street, and across the Essex Avenue Bridge.

He was driving better now, although twice, without knowing it, he ran through a red traffic signal.

The traffic was light at that hour, and no car crossed his path.

He began to slow down as he reached the shabby, darkened street where Anita’s apartment was.

The street was deserted. Only a few lights showed at the upper storey windows. As he pulled up opposite Anita’s apartment house, rain began to fall from the heavy black clouds that had been piling up for the past hour.

He sat for some minutes looking up at the dark building. It was now twenty minutes to nine o’clock.

Anita’s window on the top floor was in darkness. It would be another hour and a half before she came home, he thought. Could he last out that time?

He rested his burning forehead against the car window. If he let go now, he knew he would slip off into a coma from which there would be no awakening. He decided to go up and wait outside her door.

Anything would be better than sitting in the car in which he now seemed to have passed a lifetime.

He opened the car door. When his feet touched the road, he nearly fell, but caught hold of the door in time to steady himself. He had thought he had been pretty bad the first time he had come to this house, but that was nothing to what he was feeling now.

He stood still, gathering his strength. It seemed a long way across the street, and his mind recoiled from the thought of climbing all those stairs, but he was determined now to get to her room: nothing would stop him.

As he was about to close the car door, he saw the Thompson gun on the floor by the driving seat.

He picked it up instinctively and, holding it under his arm, he turned, leaving the car door open, and began a slow, staggering walk across the street.

A car coming around the corner avoided him with a scream of tortured tyres and a blast of the horn.

Baird scarcely noticed it, his eyes were fixed on the front door of the apartment house, and he was oblivious to anything else.

Painfully he dragged himself up the steps. Every muscle in his body seemed to be on fire. He pushed open the door and walked into the dimly lit, airless lobby.

The flight of stairs faced him. He stood looking at them, swaying to and fro, only just keeping his balance. Then he moved forward, and began the nightmare climb that seemed to go on and on: a climb that wracked his body and forced his breath in great labouring gasps through his clenched teeth.

He reached the first floor landing, and stopped, his back against the banisters, sweat streaming down his face. He couldn’t remember how many more stairs he had to climb, and he began to doubt if he could reach the fourth floor. But his will drove him on, and slowly he staggered and lurched down the passage to the next flight of stairs.

He climbed them somehow, pausing on every step before mounting to the next. As he went down the passage to the third flight, a woman opened the door of a room close by and stared at him.

He kept on, not seeing her, and horrified at the sight of the gun and his lurching, staggering gait, she hastily closed the door.

He went up the last flight of stairs on his hands and knees, dragging the gun with him. He lay face down on the landing, drawing in great gasps of breath.

Well, he had done it. An hour’s wait, he thought, and he heard himself groan. He rol ed over on his side and looked at the closed door a few feet from him.

He was going to see her again. She might have changed her mind about him. He wouldn’t let go, now he had got so far. She had saved him before. She might even save him again.

Through his dazed and confused mind a gruesome joke filtered.

He thought, ‘I’l see her again if it kills me.’

III

Lieutenant Olin was on the telephone when Dallas put his head around the door.

‘I’m busy,’ Olin grunted. ‘Go away and bother someone else.’

Dallas came into the small office, pulled up a chair and sat astride it. In the hard light of the desk lamp he looked tired and edgy. He made a face at Olin, took out a cigarette and pasted it on his lower lip.

Olin said into the phone, ‘Okay, check it for finger-prints and call me back.’ He hung up, pushed back 103

James Hadley Chase. The Fast Buck. 1952

his chair and scowled at Dallas. ‘What do you want? I’m busy.’

‘I heard you the first time,’ Dal as said. ‘Found Hater yet?’

‘I’m not even looking for him,’ Olin returned. ‘What makes you think he’s where I could find him?’

‘It’s my bet Baird engineered his escape.’

‘Baird?’ Olin reached for a cigar, bit off the end and spat into his trash basket. ‘Are you making guesses or do you know something?’

‘I know something,’ Dal as returned, paused to light his cigaret e, then went on, ‘Kile hired Baird to get Hater out of jail. Hater was to tell Kile where he had cached the stuff. The idea was put to Kile by a guy named Adam Gillis, Eve Gillis’s brother. He and Kile were going to hand the stuff over to the Rajah of Chittabad in return for a half million in cash.’

‘How long have you known this?’ Olin said, his eyes suddenly hard.

‘Purvis had an idea this was the set-up for weeks, but he hadn’t any proof. As soon as I got proof, he told me to come down here and give you the dope.’

‘You mean you can prove it was Baird who got Hater out?’

‘Yeah. Gillis has just been booked for attempted murder. He’l talk.’

Olin put down his unlighted cigar.

‘What’s this? How do you know Gil is has been booked? Who’s running this goddamn police force?’

‘Take it easy, George,’ Dal as said soothingly. ‘I was on the spot when Gillis went for his sister. I guess if I hadn’t broken in, he’d have kil ed her. As it is she’s got a fractured skul , and may lose an eye.

The punk hit her with a bottle.’

Olin drew in a long, deep breath.

‘Look, I’m busy,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a cop kil ing on my hands. This’ll have to wait. You’re sure Gillis has been booked?’

Dallas nodded.

‘What’s left of him,’ he said, and looked down at his skinned knuckles. ‘He tried to get tough with me, so I had to quieten him.’

‘You know we’ve picked up Kile?’

‘Yeah. I saw you pick him up. Gillis tipped you. I was right behind him when he put the call through to you. I’ve been on his tail al the evening. Lucky for his sister I was.’

The phone rang.

Olin snatched it up.

‘What is it?’ He listened, stiffened, half got up. ‘You sure? A blue Packard? Okay, I’l start something. Thanks, Bill,’ and he hung up. ‘My cop was shot by a .45 Colt with Baird’s prints on it,’ he told Dallas. ‘A blue Packard was seen by a passing motorist heading away from the scene of the shooting, coming this way.’

‘Maybe he’s got Hater with him,’ Dal as said, get ing to his feet.

‘I don’t give a damn one way or the other. I want Baird.’

Olin got up and went out of the office. Dallas could hear him shouting orders in the outer office. He came back after a while.

‘Not much I can do until we get organised,’ he said. ‘They’l pick up the Packard fast enough if it’s in town. Maybe I’d better take a look at Gil is.’

‘I’ve been thinking about him,’ Dal as said. ‘The set-up is a little delicate. It mightn’t be such a bad idea if you didn’t see him tonight. When you do see him, he’s going to talk. He’s going to tell you it was the Rajah’s money that financed Hater’s escape. Might be awkward to have to arrest the Rajah. He’s a big shot in his own country.’

Olin grunted.

‘I couldn’t care less if he was Gandhi himself.’

‘No, maybe you couldn’t but the State Department might.’ Dal as stubbed out his cigaret e. ‘It would save complications if the Rajah was tipped off that trouble was heading his way. He might pack his trunks and return home. If he did, you’d be let out of a tricky situation.’

‘Are you working for this guy?’ Olin demanded aggressively.

Dallas shook his head.

‘I’m figuring it from your angle, George. I wouldn’t like you to get in bad with the State Department.’

Olin hesitated.

‘I’ve got to see Gil is,’ he said obstinately.

‘Did I tel you I broke his jaw? As soon as he was booked he was shipped off to hospital. He isn’t fit enough to talk tonight.’

Olin stared at Dallas, then suddenly grinned.

‘I’m going downstairs for a moment,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’d like to talk to your friend the Rajah.’

‘Yeah, I might at that,’ Dal as said, and reached for the phone.

Olin went down to the information room.

‘Lieutenant,’ the desk sergeant said, ‘a message’s just come in. A blue Packard’s been found in 25th Street. There’s a body of a man in it.’

Olin’s eyes lit up.

‘Who found it?’

‘O’Brien, sir. It’s on his beat. He’s just phoned through.’

‘I’ll go myself. Tel Morris to come on after me with the squad. I’l want ten uniformed men as well.

Have ’em out there fast.’

Olin went quickly down the steps to where his car was parked. He drove away fast, his siren blasting.

Three minutes later another police car, followed by an Emergency Squad truck, went tearing down the street after Olin.

Olin found the shabby 25th Street blocked either end by a big crowd of curious sightseers. There were three prowl-cars drawn up by the sidewalk. The patrol men were keeping the crowd well away from the big blue Packard that stood under a lamp standard, its driving door open.

Olin pushed his way through the crowd and walked down the street to the Packard.

O’Brien, a big, beefy man with greying hair and keen blue eyes, saluted.

‘What have you got there, Tim?’ Olin asked, pausing beside the Packard.

‘I’m making a guess, Lieutenant,’ O’Brien said, ‘but it’s my bet it’s Hater.’

‘Hater?’

Olin moved forward and peered into the car.

‘At the back, under the blanket,’ O’Brien said. ‘I left him how I found him.’

Olin opened the rear door as more police sirens wailed through the night. He lifted the blanket, and O’Brien threw the beam of his powerful flashlight over Olin’s shoulders.

They both stared at the emaciated, half-naked, mud-streaked body, and at the bluish-white face. The adhesive bandage across the mouth had cut deeply, and the flesh each side of it had swollen, giving the dead face a grotesque, horrifying appearance.

‘What makes you think it’s Hater?’ Olin asked.

‘I once worked at Bel more Farm, Lieutenant,’ O’Brien explained. ‘That’s their uniform,’ and he touched the mud-soaked trousers.

‘Ever seen Hater?’

‘I’ve seen pictures of him. Looks like him: same eyebrows.’

‘Yeah,’ Olin said, and stepped back. The stench in the car made him feel ill.

Morris came running up.

‘It’s Hater,’ Olin said.

‘What do you know?’ Morris gaped into the car. ‘He’s got his hands tied.’

‘You’l be tel ing me he’s dead next,’ Olin snapped. ‘Isn’t that damned ambulance coming?’

‘Yes, sir. Should be here any second now.’

Olin looked up and down the shabby street.

‘Isn’t this the street we cornered Baird in last time?’

Morris nodded.

‘Yeah, I guess it is.’

‘Maybe he’s still around.’ Olin looked up expectantly at the roofs of the buildings. ‘Get four men up there. The rest of them had better go from house to house and find out if anyone’s seen Baird.’

While Morris went off to get his men posted, the two interns, who had got off the newly arrived ambulance, carried Hater from the car to the sidewalk. They laid him on a stretcher, and one of them carefully removed the adhesive bandage from his mouth.

‘What did he die of?’ Olin asked, pul ing fiercely on his cigar.

‘Heart failure, from the look of him,’ the intern said. ‘I’d say he’s been dead for two or three days.’

‘What’s the stink in the car, for Gawd’s sake?’

‘Gangrene,’ the intern told him. ‘It’s not from this guy.’

Olin stroked his jaw.

‘Pret y bad?’

‘I’d say it was bad. Whoever owns that stench is about ready for a wreath.’

A patrolman came up and saluted Olin.

‘Lieutenant, there’s a guy wanting to speak to you,’ he said. ‘Name of Dal as. Shal I let him through?’

Olin hesitated, then shrugged.

‘Yeah, let him through.’

Dallas joined Olin.

‘What have you got?’ he asked, looking at the body on the stretcher.

‘Hater,’ Olin said. ‘Not much doubt about it. O’Brien here has seen a picture of him.’

Dallas blew out his cheeks.

‘That’s sweet, isn’t it? The only guy in the world who knows where the Chittabad collection is, and he has to croak. Think he told Baird where it was cached before he handed in his pail?’

Olin shrugged.

‘Looks like Baird’s badly hurt. Someone who’s been in that car’s got gangrene. He couldn’t have got far.’

Dallas looked thoughtfully down the street at the gaping crowd. Then he frowned, peered forward, stared, and turning, caught hold of Olin’s arm.

‘I think I can guess where Baird is,’ he said. ‘See that girl in the front row? The one with a scarf over her head.’

Olin looked in the direction.

‘What of her?’

‘She’s Baird’s girl. She lives across the way. No. 30, on the top floor. It’s my bet Baird’s up there right now.’

‘How the hel do you know all this?’ Olin snarled. ‘If you’ve been holding out on me…!’

‘Burns found out about her,’ Dal as explained. ‘I didn’t know until tonight.’

‘There are a lot of things you didn’t know until tonight,’ Olin said angrily. ‘You’re sure that’s Baird’s girl?’

‘Yeah.’

Olin turned to O’Brien.

‘That girl with the scarf on her head. Bring her over here.’

‘Miss Jackson?’ O’Brien looked startled. ‘Excuse me, Lieutenant, you’re sure you want her?’

Olin glared at him.

‘That’s what I said! What is she — untouchable or something?’

‘Sorry, Lieutenant,’ O’Brien said uncomfortably. ‘I know most people on my beat, and she’s a good girl. She works hard and keeps to herself. She’s never been in any trouble, and that’s saying something in this street.’

‘Wel , she’s in trouble now,’ Olin snapped. ‘Bring her here.’

O’Brien saluted and walked stiffly down the street. He went up to Anita, said something, took her elbow and brought her back to Olin.

Anita’s dark eyes were scared, but she didn’t flinch from Olin’s hard gaze.

‘You know Verne Baird?’ he snapped.

‘I’ve met him,’ Anita said.

‘Yeah? Didn’t he hole up in your room about a month ago?’ Olin demanded aggressively. ‘You’d better not lie. I’ve got a witness.’

She looked quickly away from him, and her eyes took in the stretcher. The intern was dropping a blanket across Hater’s dead face. She had a glimpse of the swollen, grotesque mask before the blanket hid it.

Her hands went to her breasts, and the colour drained out of her face. She looked appealingly at O’Brien, claiming his at ention because he was a familiar stranger among unfamiliar ones.

‘Who — who is it?’ she asked.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Olin barked. ‘I asked you…’

‘Who is that, please?’ she repeated, looking at O’Brien, and pointed at the still figure on the stretcher.

‘A guy named Hater,’ O’Brien told her. ‘But answer the Lieutenant’s question.’

‘Hater? Is he dead?’

There was something about the way she was holding herself and the sudden horror in her eyes that stopped Olin from grabbing and shaking her. He glanced at O’Brien and nodded.

‘Yes, he’s dead. You don’t have to worry about him,’ O’Brien said. ‘Tel the Lieutenant about Baird.’

Slowly, as if she was sleep-walking, Anita walked over to the stretcher.

The intern, a young, red-faced fellow, looked up impatiently.

‘Can I see him, please?’ she asked.

Surprised, he looked across at Olin, who signalled to him.

‘He’s not pretty,’ the intern said grudgingly, as if he were jealous of sharing his world of horrors with any outsider.

He lifted the blanket.

Anita looked for a long moment at the dead, swollen face. She seemed to go suddenly limp, and O’Brien went quickly to her side, taking her arm. He turned her away, so her back was to the body on the stretcher.

‘What happened to him?’ she asked, her fingers digging into O’Brien’s wrist. ‘He had only two more years to serve. He wouldn’t have run away.’

‘What is this?’ Olin said, exasperated.

As he made a move to go to her, Dallas pulled him back.

‘Let me talk to her,’ he said urgently, and before Olin could stop him, he was at Anita’s side.

‘He was kidnapped from prison,’ he told her. ‘They wanted to find out where he had hidden the Chittabad collection. Baird was paid to get him out of jail. It was Baird who killed him.’

She stiffened and pushed away from O’Brien.

‘Baird did that?’

‘That’s right. Do you know Hater?’

She jerked up her head and looked defiantly at Dallas.

‘Of course I know him. He was my father.’

Before Dallas could collect his startled wits, a patrolman with an elderly woman came quickly across the street towards Olin.

‘Lieutenant,’ the patrolman said, ‘this woman says she’s seen Baird.’

‘Where?’ Olin demanded, turning to the woman.

‘He was going to the top floor of my house,’ the woman said excitedly. ‘A big man; he seemed ill, and he was carrying a gun.’

‘Where’s your house?’

‘No. 30. That’s it over there,’ and she pointed.

‘You say he had a gun: what kind of a gun?’

‘I don’t know: a sort of machine-gun.’

‘Okay,’ Olin said, he waved the patrolman and woman away. ‘Come on, boys, let’s get him.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Dallas said, catching hold of Olin’s arm. ‘You don’t think you’ll take him alive?’

‘I don’t care if he’s alive or dead,’ Olin said.

‘Maybe he knows where the collection is. You’ve got to get him alive.’

Olin stared at him,

‘I don’t give a damn about the collection. I’m getting him dead or alive.’

‘Can I quote you?’ Dal as said. ‘The insurance companies will love to know the name of the officer who gypped them out of four million.’

Olin threw his cigar butt in the street.

‘Will you get out of my way! I’ve had about enough of you!’

‘Without the gun you could take him alive,’ Dallas said, speaking quickly. ‘Let me go up there and try and get the gun. I can tell him I’m from Miss Jackson. He might listen to me.’

Anita touched Olin’s arm.

‘I’ll get his gun,’ she said quietly. ‘He won’t hurt me. Then you can come up and take him.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying. This guy’s dangerous,’ Olin said, exasperated. ‘Will you two get out of my hair?’

‘Let her do it,’ Dallas said. ‘You can be right behind her. If he starts blasting with that gun, he could kill half your men before you got him.’

‘I tell you she’s not going up there…!’ Olin began.

Anita turned suddenly and began to run across the street towards the house.

As Olin opened his mouth to shout after her, Dallas stumbled against him, knocking him off balance.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Olin snarled, recovering himself. ‘Come on, you guys, get after that girl!’

IV

Baird, lying on his side, his head on his arm, his back against the wall, was suddenly galvanised from his coma by the sound of a police siren.

He lifted his head, listening. The wailing note of the siren floated up the stairs like the vanguard of death. With an effort that made him feel faint and sick, he dragged himself to a sitting position. His right hand went out and pulled the Thompson gun towards him. He rested the butt against his chest, the barrel covering the stairs.

How had they found him? he wondered. He had a vague idea that he had come in a car, but his mind was too dazed and sick with fever to remember what he had done with the car. Surely he couldn’t have been so crazy as to have left it outside the house?

He looked over his shoulder along the passage. He could see the faint light of the moon coming through the skylight. If he remained in the passage, they would take him in the rear. Some of them would come up the stairs, the others would come through the skylight.

Slowly he dragged himself to Anita’s door. He reached up and turned the handle, but the door was locked. The effort sent him into a half-conscious stupor, and he lay on his side, against the door, fighting off the feeling that he was about to slip off the edge of the world.

More sirens brought him alert again. He caught hold of the door handle and dragged himself to his feet. He set his back against the door. From this position he could watch both the skylight and the stairs.

He got the Thompson under his arm with the butt against the door, his finger curled around the trigger. It wouldn’t last long, he told himself, but he’d take some of them with him. He remembered with startling clearness the same thing had happened to him in this very passage some five weeks ago. Then he had given himself up for lost, but she had saved him. It was still possible she might save him again.

Time hung in space. He waited with the patience of a wounded and trapped animal. Every now and then his head dropped to his chest, and his legs sagged, but each time he made the effort and stopped himself from sliding to the floor.

It was a long time before he heard footsteps on the stairs. He raised the gun, and waited.

Then he saw her. She was coming up the stairs, her hand on the banister rail, a red and blue scarf on her head, and her shabby overcoat dark with rain. She looked at him, white-faced, and her eyes big and frightened.

‘Hel o,’ he said huskily. ‘This is where we came in, isn’t it?’

She didn’t say anything. He saw her eyes shift from him to the gun. He realised he was still pointing it at her, and he hurriedly lowered the barrel.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, not moving.

‘My arm’s bad,’ he said. It was extraordinary how her presence had suddenly given him a new lease in life. The sight of her seemed to lift him above the fever that was devouring him. ‘Are the cops outside?’

‘There’s been an accident,’ she said, ‘A man died.’

‘Aren’t they looking for me?’

‘It’s the accident,’ she repeated, and began to move slowly and warily up the stairs. ‘Do you want me to look at your arm?’

He tried to grin.

‘It’s past being looked at. It’l have to come off.’

‘Perhaps I can do something.’ She came within a yard of him and stopped, her eyes on the gun.

‘Your door’s locked. I tried to get in.’

‘I always keep it locked. Do you want to lie on the bed?’

‘Maybe I’d better not. I don’t want to get you into trouble. I may die on you.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Are you sure the cops aren’t looking for me?’

‘There was an accident,’ she said, refusing to lie to him. ‘They found a dead man in a car outside.’

‘A dead man? You’re sure he’s dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s Hater,’ he said. ‘I remember now. He’s dead, is he?’

She didn’t say anything.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he said, his mind groping vaguely into the past. ‘I forgot about him. We tied him and hid him under a blanket, then my arm got bad and I forgot about him. I forgot about everything except you. I’ve driven over five hundred miles to see you.’

Still she didn’t say anything.

‘Hater was quite a guy,’ Baird went on, half to himself. ‘You wouldn’t believe it to look at him. He hid four million bucks worth of jewellery somewhere. Think of that! Now he’s dead, and no one will ever find the stuff.’

‘You killed him,’ she said, in a cold, flat voice.

‘No. If he’s dead it’s because it was coming to him. I forgot about him, that’s al . You can’t cal that killing a man.’ He put his hand on the door knob. ‘Aren’t you going to open up?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and moved closer to him. She touched the gun. ‘Shal I take this? You won’t need it.’

His fingers tightened on the gun.

‘I might,’ he said. ‘I guess I can manage. Open the door, won’t you?’

She put a key in the lock and pushed open the door.

‘Remember the last time?’ he asked, looking into the shadowy room, lit by the moonlight coming in through the window. ‘Take it.’ He pushed the Thompson into her hands. ‘When I woke up last time you had put my rod by my side. I haven’t forgot en that. You’re the only one I’ve ever met who I can trust.’

He sank down on the bed. ‘I’ve often thought about you and what you did for me. I’ve often thought what you said about kindness isn’t something you buy from a grocery store. I guess you were right.

You’ve got to have kindness in you.’

She held the gun stiffly, the barrel pointing down at the floor.

‘Paul Hater was my father,’ she said.

Baird rubbed his ravaged face with the back of his hand.

‘What’s that?’

‘I said Paul Hater was my father.’

He looked at her, then at the gun.

‘Would you have told me that if I hadn’t given you the gun?’

She shook her head.

‘No.’

‘But he can’t mean anything to you. You can’t have seen him for fifteen years. You must have been about five when they took him away.’

‘My mother told me about him,’ she said quietly. ‘She told me how they tortured him. The only thing that kept him alive was the knowledge I’d be waiting for him when he came out.’

‘The only thing that kept him alive,’ Baird said, ‘was the thought of that stuff he had hidden away, and what he was going to do with it.’

‘No, that’s what everyone thought,’ she said, coming to the foot of the bed and looking down at him.

‘When he was arrested, my mother took the col ection. No one knew he was married. It was easy for her to get out of the country. The ship struck a reef. Only she and five others were rescued. The collection went down with the ship. For fifteen years my father suffered so my mother could go free. I never told him she found someone else. Then you had to come along and kill him when his suffering was nearly ended.’

‘I didn’t kill him,’ Baird said obstinately.

‘But you did. If you had left him alone, he would be alive now.’

‘You’re feeling pret y bad about it, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I guess I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known. I want you to believe that. I stil owe you a lot. I could have squared our debt if I had known.’

‘I shouldn’t have helped you the first time,’ she said. ‘That’s where I went wrong. I only did it because I remembered what they did to him. If I had let them find you here, he would be alive now.’

‘I guess that’s right,’ he said, and lay back on the pillow. ‘There’s not much of me left. They can have what there is. Go ahead and call them.’

‘They’re waiting now,’ she said.

‘I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t suppose you’l believe that.’

‘Does it matter now? It’s a little late for regrets, isn’t it? You did it, and he’s dead. I blame myself, not you.’

His despair was bitter as she went out of the room without looking at him. For the first time in his life he felt afraid, for he realised he was going to die as he had lived: uncared for and in loneliness.

Olin and two patrolmen, guns in hand, came into the room. Dallas followed them.

Baird lay flat on his back, his eyes closed. He was breathing with difficulty, and sweat ran off his face, soaking the pillow.

Olin snapped, ‘Get that intern up here, and tel him to hurry.’

Dallas shook Baird’s shoulder.

‘Hey, you! Wake up!’

Baird opened his eyes.

‘Did Hater tell you where the stuff is?’ Dal as demanded. ‘Come on, spil it! It’s not going to be of any use to you now.’

Baird shook his head.

‘I forgot to ask him,’ he said, in a voice that was scarcely audible. ‘Too bad, isn’t it, copper?’ His eyes moved from Dallas to Olin. ‘I holed up in this room after I knocked off those two in the drug store,’

he said, speaking with difficulty. ‘I told her if she didn’t hide me Rico would get her. She didn’t want to do it. Do you understand? I made her. You’re not going to hold it against her, are you?’

‘Get ing soft?’ Olin said with a sneer. ‘You know as well as I do she covered you, and that makes her an accessory to murder!’

‘She thought Rico would rub her out if she didn’t cover me.’ Baird made an effort to sit up, but he couldn’t make it.

‘Quit lying!’ Olin said. ‘Why should you want to shield her? She took your gun. If it hadn’t been for her we wouldn’t have found you. Now, come on; she hid you wil ingly, didn’t she?’

Baird looked at Dallas.

‘You fix it,’ he gasped. ‘She’s a good kid. I made her do what she did. Put it in writing. I’l sign it.’

‘Listen,’ Dal as said to Olin, ‘if she hadn’t got his gun, you’d have had a bat le on your hands. What do you want to pick on her for?’

Olin made an impatient gesture.

‘Oh, the hel with it! I don’t want her. She can go for al I care. Where’s that damned intern?’

Baird relaxed limply back on the pillow. His eyes closed.

Dallas said, ‘Can I tel your man to let her go?’

‘Sure,’ Olin said impatiently. ‘Do what you damn well like.’

As Dallas went into the passage, the intern came up the stairs.

Olin called to him, ‘Give this guy a shot of something. I want him to make a statement.’

Dallas ran down the stairs.

Anita and a patrolman were waiting in the lobby. Dallas stepped past them and shut himself in the pay booth at the end of the passage. He put a call through to Purvis. Rapidly he brought Purvis up to date on the night’s happenings.

‘Looks like we’re sunk,’ he concluded. ‘With Hater dead, our last chance of finding the stuff goes with him.’

‘How about the girl?’ Purvis said. ‘Maybe she knows.’

‘Do you want me to ask her?’

‘Certainly,’ Purvis said. ‘Tel her I’l give her ten grand if she can tell us where he hid the stuff.’

‘Get ing pret y generous all of a sudden, aren’t you?’

‘Go and tel her!’

‘Now wait a minute, if she knows where the stuff is hidden, and she tells us, what’s to stop Olin nabbing her as an accessory?’ Dal as pointed out.

‘What do I care?’ Purvis barked. ‘Let her worry about that. And listen, don’t go put ing ideas into her head. The chances are she won’t think of that angle. Ten grand’s a lot of money.’

‘Would you cover her if Olin asked questions?’ Dal as persisted.

‘I’m not that crazy,’ Purvis said. ‘Just don’t tel her. The chances are she won’t figure that angle.’

‘Hold on,’ Dal as said. ‘I’l ask her.’

He laid down the receiver, left the pay booth and walked over to where Anita and the patrolman were waiting.

‘The Lieutenant says this woman can go,’ Dal as said to the patrolman. ‘He wants you upstairs.’

‘Okay,’ the patrolman said. ‘That lets you out,’ he went on to Anita. ‘You’d better take a walk until they’ve got him out of here.’

As he went up the stairs, he gave Dallas a slow wink.

‘Just a minute, Miss Jackson,’ Dal as said as Anita began to move away. ‘I’m Ed Dal as of the International Detective Agency. We’ve been trying to find the Chittabad collection since it was stolen.

I’ve been authorised to pay you ten thousand dol ars if you can give me any information that’l lead to the recovery of the jewels.’

She looked up at him, her face expressionless.

‘It’s only fair to warn you,’ he went on, ‘that if you do know what’s happened to them and you tell me, you run the risk of being prosecuted as an accessory.’

‘But you shouldn’t tel me that, should you?’ she said.

‘Maybe not, but I don’t like the way my boss is handling this case. Al he thinks about is what he’s going to get out of it. It’s up to you. If you think ten grand is worth the risk, and you know something, now’s the time to spil it.’

She shook her head.

‘I have no information to give you.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

She stiffened, and her eyes became hostile.

‘No, thank you.’

He took out his card and slipped it into her hand.

‘You might change your mind. If you do, give me a call. It’s not much fun being on your own after a thing like this. I might be able to help you.’

‘Thank you, but I’l manage.’

She walked past him, down the passage to the street door. Dallas watched her until he lost sight of her in the crowd that stood either side of the entrance. He wondered if he would see her again, and hoped he would.

He went back to the pay booth.

‘You there?’ he asked, as he picked up the receiver.

‘Of course I’m here,’ Purvis said. ‘What did she say?’

‘She doesn’t know. Hater never told her a thing. I’m not surprised. She was only five when he went inside.’

‘You’re sure she isn’t lying?’

‘Not a chance. I can always tell when a woman’s lying. If you ask me the col ection never wil be found.’

‘I’m not asking you!’ Purvis snapped. ‘Come back to the office. Maybe we can figure an angle.’

Dallas watched two white-coated attendants carrying the stretcher down the stairs. They had covered Baird’s face with the blanket.

‘You still there?’ Purvis asked suspiciously.

‘Yeah,’ Dal as said. ‘They’re just carrying Baird out. The crowd’s get ing a big bang out of it.’ He opened the booth door so he could watch the stretcher being carried into the street. ‘Funny how people like to gape at a corpse. I believe he was really fond of that girl.’

‘Wil you stop mutering to yourself,’ Purvis said angrily. ‘Come back here at once. I think I’ve got an angle already.’

‘How you love to kid yourself,’ Dal as said pityingly and hung up.