Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

Chapter TEN

IT wasn’t until we had been in New York for three days and we had more or less settled down in a Brooklyn apartment that I began to realize that Doc Ansell’s presentiments might have some foundation.

During those three days, we were all busy trying to find Myra’s father. Consequently, we didn’t see much of each other.

In spite of this, I was aware of a subtle change that had come over Myra. She was kinder and she did not pick quarrels with Bogle. She looked different somehow, although I did not stop to analyse just why she did look different. She also clung more strongly than ever to her policy of honesty, which unsettled us all.

The first real indication that things weren’t right happened on the third night of our stay in New York. I had been around the various Press Clubs hoping to pick up some clue to Shumway and I guess I must have been doing myself rather well. I wasn’t exactly tight, but I’d had enough to make me hesitate about ascending the stairs in the dark. Also, I couldn’t find the light switch.

I was standing in the lobby trying to make up my mind whether I’d go up on my hands and knees or sleep in the living-room, when I heard the sound of someone coming up the steps to the apartment. A moment later the front door opened and someone came in.

“Who’s that?” I said, peering into the darkness.

There was a faint gasp and I recognized Myra’s voice.

“Put the light on, will you?” I said, “I’ve been searching for the switch for the last five minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, but ran upstairs. I could just make out her shadowy form as she slipped past me.

“Well, that’s a nice way to treat a guy,” I said, “can’t you even say hello?”

By this time, she’d reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared.

Feeling a little mad and wondering what made her behave like this, I took the stairs with a rush and eventually got to the top. I went straight to Myra’s room and knocked on the door. There wasn’t any sound, so I opened the door and put my head round. The room was in darkness.

“Myra?” I called, “What are you up to?”

A sleepy voice came from across the room, “What is it?”

I groped for the switch and turned it on.

Myra sat up in bed. She was in a pair of gay pyjamas and she looked at me crossly. “What’s the big idea?” she snapped, “take that drink sodden face out of here and put it under a pillow.”

I stared at her. “But, you passed me a moment ago,” I said, feeling startled, “do you usually get into bed in two seconds?”

She sat further up in the bed. “You’re tight,” she said. “I’ve been asleep since eleven o’clock. Go away!”

I came into the room. “Seriously, sweetheart,” I said, “someone came upstairs. I thought it was you. Damn it, I’ll swear it was you.”

“This sounds mightily like the silk-worm gag,” she said, “get out of my room before I toss you out, you drunken heel!”

This brought me up short. I looked at her. This was the Myra I’d known in Mexico. A sudden change had come over her from the Myra I’d known during the past three days.

“Take it easy,” I said, “I’m not as tight as all that,” and I walked over to where her clothes were lying. I touched her dress. It was warm. “You’ve just got out of this,” I said, picking it up.

“Where did you get that from?” she asked, startled, “I put all my clothes away before I went to bed.”

“Yeah? Well, there’s a complete outfit on this chair. Look, one of us is nuts and it ain’t me.”

She climbed out of bed and came over. “But, I haven’t had these things out of my trunk since we came here,” she said, uneasily.

“Okay,” I said dropping the dress. “Forget it. I don’t want to know where you’ve been tonight. You don’t have to lie so hard.”

“I’m not lying!” she said angrily, “you’re trying to make a fool out of me!”

“I couldn’t do that,” I said, suddenly feeling too tired to argue. “Go to sleep,” and I walked out and left her.

I don’t mind telling you it preyed on my mind. I couldn’t get to sleep and I began imagining all kinds of things. I could have swore that whoever it was who’d gone upstairs had been Myra. Yet it didn’t seem possible for her to get into bed and feign sleep in so short a time. Yet, that was what she must have done.

Why had she pretended to be asleep? What had she been up to? Or was she speaking the truth? That’s how it went on in my mind for nearly the rest of the night. But, I did eventually get some sleep.

The next morning, while I was shaving, Doc Ansell came into my room.

“Hello there,” I said as I mowed my beard with an electric razor. “Have I got a hangover or have I?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Ansell said, sitting on the foot of the bed. “I’m not happy about certain things.”

“What things?”

“That girl in the photograph,” Ansell said slowly, “how do you explain she’s the image of Myra?”

I selected a necktie and wandered over to the mirror. “I don’t,” I said.

“That’s just the point. She hasn’t a twin and you’ll never make me believe that some other girl, no relation of hers, could look like her.”

“Well, that’s what’s happened,” I said. “Maybe, Shumway got hold of an actress who’s made herself up to look like Myra. A guy like him would do a lot for all that dough.”

Ansell shook his head, “I think there’s more in it than that,” he said, “I’m not saying you haven’t hit on the explanation, but I don’t think so.”

“Quit beating about the bush,” I said, facing him, “what are you getting at?”

“Haven’t you noticed a change in the girl recently?” he asked.

Then I remembered what happened last night. “There was a change,” I said slowly, “but now she’s back where she started.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What happened last night?”

I told him.

He sat listening, his face grave and his eyes worried. When I’d finished, he smacked one hand into the other. “Then I’m right!” he said. “There are two of them. Strange and powerful influences are around.”

“Now, don’t start that,” I said irritably. “It’s bad enough…”

“Did you ever read a book called ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’?” I stared at him, “I guess so, but what has that…?”

“Plenty,” Ansell broke in, “you remember it’s a story of the separating of the good and evil in man. Did you know that the Naguales have this power? I think that’s what’s happened to Myra.”

I put my coat on slowly and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t looking too good in the hard sunlight. I looked pale and there were smudges under my eyes.

“If you can’t talk sense, you’d better shut up,” I said at last.

“It’s only because you refuse to believe,” Ansell said quietly. “Ignorance breeds fear. You’re becoming frightened.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. I could see he wouldn’t let it go, so I thought we might as well have it out.

“Give me a retake,” I said.

“This is what I think’s happened,” Ansell said. “Quintl has separated the good and bad in Myra and has put each of these components into materialized form. The form naturally follows the original pattern. So we have two Myras, both of them exactly alike, but one has all the good qualities that a human being possesses while the other has all the bad ones. Now, do you understand?”

“It’s crazy,” I said, hating every bit of this.

Ansell shook his head, “It isn’t, if you know about these things. If I told you that the dog would talk, you wouldn’t have believed it. Now, you admit you accept it as a fact.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking again of what happened last night. “So you really think she can become two people or rather possess two different bodies when she wants to?”

“I think so. Perhaps not when she wants to, but when she’s not aware of what’s happening and is off her guard. Let’s put it that way.”

“That would account for what happened last night. They’ve become one again.”

“But what has the other one been doing?”

“That’s something we’ve got to find out. That’s where Myra’s danger lies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go back to first principles,” Ansell said. “We have all latent evil in our make-up. Some of us haven’t the same control over this instinct as others. It depends on our training, our environment and our strength of character whether this instinct gets the upper hand. If the evil in us is segregated without the restraining influence of our instinct for doing good, then something entirely primitive has been created and may cause a lot of destruction. I’d hate to see Myra suffer for something she hasn’t done.”

This was beyond me. “Something she hasn’t done?” I repeated.

“Yes. Suppose now, the other Myra, the Myra in the photograph, takes it into her head to commit a crime. Might not the Myra we know get the blame for it?”

“Why should she?”

“It depends if the other Myra is seen while committing the crime,” Ansell returned.

“They’re exactly alike. The finger prints would be the same. Both girls are easily recognized. Can’t you see what danger there might be in all this?”

I drew a deep breath, “You’re looking for trouble,” I said. “This business is too much for me. What we’ve got to do is to get after Shumway. Now, come on, I smell breakfast.”

“Wait,” Ansell said. “What about this fellow Kelly? Maybe, we can get on to him.”

“Maybe, we can,” I said. “We’ll talk it over at breakfast.”

In the living room, Bogle was setting the table “All ready, Bud,” he said to me. “Pried ham and eggs, whaddayssay?”

“Sounds fine,” I said. “Isn’t Myra coming down?”

“Naw,” Sam said, going into the kitchen. “A dame like that likes to lay around in bed. Besides, it takes her half the morning to get up. I like to get breakfast over with.”

When he had gone, I said to Ansell, “Old Sam’s getting like a gawdamn housewife. Do you think he’s going soft or something?”

Ansell shook his head absently. “He always wanted to have a place of his own,” he said.

“Many a time, in the desert, he’d talk about setting up home. Funny thing, isn’t it? Yet he’s mixed with the toughest thugs of Chicago. And now look at him, running around, keeping the house clean, cooking and waiting on Myra.”

Just then Sam came in with a tray and put the food on the table. He then shot back into the kitchen, came out again with a smaller tiny and carried it off to Myra’s room.

“Kelly,” I said, with my mouth full. “That’s an idea, Doc. I wonder if we can get a line on him.”

“Maybe your paper would know,” Ansell returned, pouring out the coffee. “Anyone there you can ask?”

I thought for a moment, “Yeah, Dowdy’s the guy. He’s sort of secretary to Maddox. He ought to know something.”

Sam came back, whistling cheerfully and pulled a chair up to the table. He sat down, “That dog murders me,” he said “Jeeze! You never seen anything like it. He’s in with the kid and they’re talking away like a couple of professors. What they find to talk about, beats me.”

“Never mind about them,” I said, pushing the plate of fried ham over to him. “So long as they don’t fight, what does it matter? I admit I don’t find Whisky too easy to talk to. Maybe, it’s because he kind of embarrasses me.”

“He’s a smart guy, that dog,” Bogle said, spearing the ham with his fork. “He’s got a political mind.”

“You wouldn’t know this fellow Kelly?” Ansell asked. “The one who’s helping Shumway.”

“Kelly?” Bogle repeated. “There’s millions of Kelly’s. I know two or three of ’em, but unless I saw the guy, I couldn’t say.”

“Don’t worry about it, Doc,” I said, helping myself to more coffee. “I’ll go down to the Recorder as soon as I’ve finished. Maybe, I’ll get something.”

“Yeah,” Bogle broke in, “ain’t it time we found this Shumway guy? When we do get him, he’ll have spent all that jack.”

“We’re doing our best,” Ansell said. “You don’t seem exactly full of ideas, Sam.” He pushed his plate away and wandered over to an armchair. He sat down and began to read the newspaper.

Whisky wandered in, “Hey-ho,” he said, with a flick of his tail “What’s buzzin’, cousin?”

“Don’t,” I said, pushing back my chair and lighting a cigarette. “Try to speak pure English if you’re going to speak at all. I think Sam’s accent is affecting you.”

“Don’t be a prig,” Whisky returned, wandering over to Sam, “Well, my old,” he went on to Sam, resting his long muzzle on Sam’s knee, “What have you got for my breakfast? That ham looked a little fat to me.”

“I’ll cut the fat off,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about a little thing like that, or I’ve got a steak. Howjer like that?”

“Mmm,” Whisky said. “Let’s go find it. That sounds like something.”

They went off into the kitchen.

“The airs and graces that dog gives himself kills me,” I said. “Steak for breakfast! He’ll get too fat.”

“Too fat for what?” Sam asked, putting his head round the door. “You be careful what you’re saying. You ain’t no hour-glass yourself.”

“From where I’m standing,” Whisky added, pushing his snout round the door, “that bulge in your waist line looks like a six-course lunch the waiter forgot, to take out of the casserole.”

“Aw, beat it, you two,” I said grinning. “My waist line’s all right. Well, I’ll get over to the Recorder. So long, Doc.”

Ansell waved, “So long,” he said.

I thought I’d say hello and good-bye to Myra so I tapped on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

I pushed the door open and walked in. I didn’t sea her in bed and I looked round the room blankly.

“Hello there,” I said, “where’ve you gone?”

“Good morning, Ross,” Myra said, and patted me lightly on my head.

She was floating near the ceiling, a book in her hand and a cigarette between her lips.

“Holy Moses!” I said, starting back. “Must you do that?”

“Why not?” she said, “Haven’t you heard the saying ‘I’m walking on air’? Well, I’m lying on it. It’s very comfortable and restful.”

She floated slowly down until her face was level with mine then she put her arm round my neck and lowered her feet to the ground. She stood with difficulty.

“I’m feeling very light, this morning,” she said, “As light as a thistledown.”

I looked at her thoughtfully, “Apart from that,” I said, “How do you feel?”

“Oh, all right,” her eyes clouded, “you were awfully drunk last night. I’m still a little angry with you.”

I wasn’t sure but this seemed the new Myra again. “I wasn’t so bad,” I said, “tell me, what happened? You know what I mean.”

She went over and sat on the bed, “I’m scared,” she said, “I dreamed things again. I dreamed that someone came into this room and got into my body. Then you woke me up. Weren’t some clothes on that chair when you came in, or did I dream it?”

“There were,” I said, looking at her uneasily. “Why do you ask?”

“Because they’re not here now,” she returned, “Oh, Ross, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” I said, sure now that Doc Ansell was right. There were two of them. It seemed incredible, but everything pointed to it. “You’re not to worry. Look, I’ve got to go out. Maybe we might lunch together.”

Her face brightened. “Lovely,” she said, “what time and where?”

I looked at the clock. It was already late. “Meet me at Manerta’s in a couple of hours and we’ll talk.”

“All right,” she said. “But, do you think it’ll do any good?”

“I don’t know, but there are things I want to discuss with you.” I turned to the door, “Don’t worry, and leave Whisky home, will you? I want you to myself.”

“I’ll tell him,” she said, “but, he won’t be pleased.”

“And I couldn’t care less,” I said and left her.

Chapter ELEVEN

THE doorman at the entrance of the Recorder Offices seemed embarrassed when he saw me.

“Hullo there, Murphy,” I said wondering what was biting him. “It’s good to see your ugly mug again. How’s tricks? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I guess that’s right,” he said, shuffling his feet like he was standing on a boiler plate of an overworked tug-boat, “you wouldn’t be coming in here, would you, Mr. Millan?”

“Yep,” I said cheerfully. “That’s the idea. I’m one of those big-minded guys. I’m not afraid of catching anything in this joint although it ought to have been fumigated years ago.”

He laughed like a very sad man, “Well, Mr. Millan,” he said, “you know how it is,” and he shuffled his feet some more.

It occurred to me suddenly that he wasn’t going to let me in. “What’s cookin’, Murphy?” I said sharply, “has someone died in there or something?”

“Well, no, Mr. Millan, but Mr. Maddox has given instructions that he don’t want you in the office. We all feel pretty sore about it, but that’s the way it is.”

“Maddox!” I said. “Well, how do you like that?” I pushed my hat to the back of my head and looked at Murphy more in anger than in sorrow. “Well, don’t let it get you down. You’re only doing your job. Look, I want a word with Dowdy. Will you get hold of him and tell him to come over to Joe’s?”

“You bet, Mr. Millan,” Murphy said, brightening up. “I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him right away.” I went over to Joe’s poolroom, behind the Recorder’s Office end I felt sore. I’d worked for this sheet for almost ten years and it was like my second home. It was like being one of the orphans in the storm.

McCue of the Telegram was the only guy in Joe’s. He was sitting at the bar on a high stool thumbing through a telephone book when I blew in.

Both he and the barman stared at me as if I was something out of a zoo.

“Hey, Mac,” I said with a grin, “isn’t it your bed-time?”

He screwed up his big rubbery face and then offered a limp hand, “Ross Millan,” he said as if he couldn’t believe it, “I thought you’d committed hara-kiri in the desert.”

“Mornin’ Willy,” I said to the barman, “how about a coffee?”

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Millan,” he said, going over to the urn, “we miss guys like you.”

“Only because we pay our way,” I said, pulling up a stool and sitting down. “These desk newshounds want everything on the cuff.”

McCue took out a dollar and laid it on the counter, “Willy,” he said, “I’m paying for that coffee. I consider it an honour to pay for anything that’ll sustain the guy who cost Maddox twenty-five grand.”

I grinned, but I wasn’t feeling so good. “Quit ribbing me,” I said, “and hang on to that dollar. You know it’s the first piece of money you ever earned.”

McCue put the dollar back into his pocket, “I was forgetting,” he said. “Anyway, it’s as good as a tenement fire to see you again. I hear you’re out.”

“The Recorder’s washed me out, if that’s what you mean,” I said, lighting a cigarette. “But, I’ve got a great future ahead of me.”

“That’s what the guy said when they stuck him on the hot seat. But, then he was only foolin’,” McCue said dryly. “What kind of a corny stunt was that you and Maddox thought up?”

“Never mind,” I said, stirring my coffee. “Let the dead rest in peace. What’s cookin’ now?” McCue returned to the telephone book, “We’ve got a new lead on the Wilson killing,” he said. “I’ve gotta phone a dame.” He found the number and pulled the battered telephone that stood on the bar towards him. It had no mouthpiece and the cord was frayed and knotted.

“When did you get back from Mexico?”

“A few days ago,” I said, watching him dial. “You want to try Mexico sometime. It’s a swell place.”

“You can have it,” he said, “I wouldn’t know what to do with sand and horses.” The telephone went plop and I heard a faint tinny voice snap something in McCue’s ear. He shifted forward on his stool, “Is this the residence of Miss Gloria Hope-Dawn?” he asked.

“For cryin’ out loud,” I said astonished. “Is that a long distance to Hollywood?”

“Naw,” he returned, grinning, “just a little tarnished glamour from the East Side.” He turned his attention to the telephone, “Hello, there. Miss Gloria Hope-Dawn? This is Mr. McCue of the Telegram. Yeah. Is it true Harry Wilson gave you a mink coat last year?”

She seemed to have a lot to say about that, because McCue closed his eyes and glued his ear to the receiver and listened.

“All tight, all right,” he said at last, “I’ve got to ask questions. It’s part of my job.”

He listened some more, then suddenly broke in, “Listerine’s about the best kind of mouth wash. You ought to try it sometime,” and hung up. He mopped his face with a dirty handkerchief, “Where these dames learn all their language beats me,” he said mournfully. “I guess I’ll have to go round and see her. Wilson couldn’t have bought her that fur coat to keep her warm. She’s like a blast furnace.”

I told myself that I was going to miss working on the Recorder. You only had to smell a little press atmosphere to realize just how much it all meant. In Mexico, it was different, but right here in New York, it was a swell game.

“Well, I’d better be moving,” McCue said, sliding off his stool. “You’ll be around, won’t you? Got any plans?”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ve got more than my arm up my sleeve. It’ll take a battalion of punks like Maddox to rattle me.”

He looked at me thoughtfully, “Yeah,” he said, “I suppose it will,” and waving his hand, he went to the door. He nearly banged into Dowdy who came hurrying in, an anxious expression on his thin hatchet face.

McCue said, “You’d better watch your till, Willy, here’s another guy from the Recorder,” and he went off down the Street.

Dowdy refused coffee and sat on the stool with a miserable expression on his face and his eye on the door. I could see that I wasn’t going to get a lot of help from him and the sooner I let him get back to the office the better he’d like it.

“Where’s Shumway?” I asked, abruptly.

Dowdy blinked, “Shumway?” he repeated, “I don’t know. Why should I?”

“Listen,” I said patiently, “if you were to tell me all the things you don’t know, we’d be old men by the time we got out of here. I don’t know why you should know where Shumway is, but, there’s no harm in asking, is there?”

“Don’t get sore, Ross,” he said uneasily. “Maddox has told us to leave you alone. If he hears you and I have been talking, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Don’t worry about a crum like that,” I said, “you inside men worry too much about punks like Maddox. I’ve got to find Shumway. It’s important.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t know where he is. He and his daughter collected the reward from Maddox and beat it. We haven’t their address on file.” He looked longingly at the door.

“This guy Kelly,” I went on hurriedly, seeing that I wasn’t going to hold him much longer, “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He was the fellow who found the girl. By rights, I suppose, he ought to have had the reward, but they agreed between themselves to split it. I only saw him once and that was after Shumway and the girl had drawn the money.”

“What did he want?” I asked, feeling that we might be getting places.

“He wanted to get in touch with Kruger,” Dowdy replied.

I stared at him, “Peppi Kruger?” I asked, startled.

“Yes, Peppi’s a big shot now, Millan,” Dowdy returned. “He’s president of the Brooklyn Motor Company and an important political figure in lower East Side politics. About six months ago he got control of the Taxi Chauffeurs’ union. You know the racket. He scared the pants off the taxicab companies and made a pile of jack. Any company that doesn’t pay up, gets into trouble. He’s got them eating out of his hand at the moment, but something tells me that the D.A.’ll get on to him before long. Anyway, he’s made enough money now to retire.”

I whistled, “A guy like that,” I said in disgust, “when I knew him he was running rum for Brescia. What did Kelly want with him?”

Dowdy slid off his stool. “I don’t know,” he said, “I wasn’t having anything to do with it, but I guess he could get in touch with Kruger easily enough.” He looked longingly at the door, “Well, I’ve got to get back,” he went on, “Maddox might want me.”

“Okay, Dowdy,” I said. “You’ve given me a lead.”

He looked at me suspiciously, “What’s the idea? Why are you interested in Shumway?”

“Wouldn’t you be interested in some guy who lost you your job?” I said, meeting his eye. He looked a little scared, “You aren’t going to start trouble, are you, Millan?” he said nervously. “Maddox wouldn’t like that.”

“Do you think I care what Maddox likes or dislikes?” I said. “Why a midget wouldn’t be scared of a rat like him.”

He gave me another troubled look, shook hands and went off across the street to the Recorder Offices.

I finished my coffee, lit another cigarette and then reached for the telephone book. Kruger had a house on East Seventy-eight Street. That made me think. To have a house in that narrow territory bounded by Lexington on the east and Fifth Avenue on the west meant something. It meant more than something. It meant money. Stacks of money.

“Remember Peppi?” I said to Willy, who had just got through preparing the free lunch sandwiches.

“Yeah,” he said, “that punk used to worry me. He didn’t come in here much, but when he did, he sure started a draught. Well, I guess he’s had a successful career, but he didn’t come by it honestly. I don’t envy him.”

I shook my head, “it wouldn’t make a lot of difference if you did,” I said with a grin, “Peppi wouldn’t care.”

Willy grinned back, “I guess that’s right,” he said. “You wouldn’t be interested in Peppi now, would you, Mr. Millan?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’ve got time to be interested in anyone.”

“Out of a job?” The big barman’s face showed sympathy.

“Resting,” I said, yawning. “When I want work, I’ll get work. Well, so long, Willy, I’ll be in again.”

“So long, Mr. Millan,” Willy still looked worried, “I hope you get a break.”

Walking down the street, I hoped so too.

Anyway the morning wasn’t wasted. I had something to think about. Why did Kelly want to get into touch with Peppi? 1’hat was interesting. Had Shumway and the girl double-crossed Kelly? Maybe Kelly had once worked for Peppi and wanted him to put some pressure on Shumway to divide up the dough.

I remembered Peppi well. You couldn’t easily forget him. Last time I saw him was about two years ago. He was on trial for murder. I remember him sitting with his Counsel, listening to the opening address by the District Attorney. He never batted an eyelid throughout the two-day trial and he got away with it without the jury leaving the box. As far as I knew, he’d stood trial four times for murder and four times he’d been acquitted. Now, of course, he could pay some other guy to do his killing for him.

Peppi was a little guy with big bulging eyes. When he was a kid he contracted a skin disease that had stripped off his hair. He’d been as bald as an egg ever since. Apart from looking like a second cousin of Lugosi, he had a mean disposition.

So it came back to the problem. What did Kelly want with him? The only thing I could do was to call on Peppi and find out. If I went with a good enough story I might get somewhere. I didn’t exactly relish the visit, but I argued that if a guy had a house on East Seventy-eight, then he wasn’t likely to cut my throat. Or was he?

Anyway, thinking along those lines didn’t get me anywhere so I hailed a cab and gave Peppi’s address.

The driver knew him all right.

“Friend of yours, Bud?” he said, pushing the taxi through the traffic like he was anxious to get rid of me.

“You ask him. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know,” I returned.

“Wise guy, huh?” the driver snorted. “A dime a dozen. A dime a dozen.”

“I heard you the first time,” I said.

He didn’t say anything for a couple of blocks, then he ventured again, “That Kruger guy ain’t doing us any good in the taxi business. Somebody ought to stop him.”

“Come in with me and stop him,” I said, putting my feet on the spring seat in front of me.

“Yeah?” he said, “I like that kind of advice. It’s like saying why not bop Joe Louis on the snout.”

“Just drive me,” I pleaded. “I would the rest were silence.”

That held him and I didn’t get a yap out of him until he’d stopped outside Peppi’s house. I gave him a dollar. “Hang on to the change,” I said. “You look like you could use some relief.”

He put the dollar away slowly. “Some of you smart guys love yourselves,” he said, spitting on the sidewalk. “I bet you’ve got chapped lips kissing mirrors,” and he drove away before I could think up a comeback.

I concentrated on Peppi’s house. Well, it was a nice joint. It looked like it belonged to Vincent Astor or J. P. Morgan or some high-powered magnate like that. It was solid, big and cool-looking with burgundy brick walls, a terra-cotta tile roof and bay-cottage windows of white stone.

I went up the three broad steps to the massive oak and iron-studded door and rang the bell. An elderly man, got up to look like a butler, opened the door “come in, sir,” he said, without even asking me what I wanted.

I followed him into a Large lounge which was furnished in the most modern style I’d seen this side of Lexington. I can’t say I liked it a lot, but it stank of money and I guess that was all Peppi ever worried about.

The butler looked at me questioningly. He was big with white hair and faded blue eyes. One side of his face was lifted as if he’d had a stroke at one time. It gave him a disagreeable look. “Did you wish to see anyone in particular, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’d like a word with Mr. Kruger.”

“Mr. Kruger, sir?” The butler’s eyebrows shot up as if I’d asked to see the President.

“That’s right,” I said, smiling at him.

“I’m afraid, sir,” the butler returned with dignity, “Mr. Kruger never sees anyone except by appointment. Would his secretary do?”

“Look,” I said, “I’m sorry about the appointment. I couldn’t care less about the secretary. I want to see Kruger. Go tell him that Ross Millan of the New York Recorder wants to see him and tell him it’s important.”

The butler studied me for a second. “Very good, sir,” he said and floated away upstairs, leaving me standing in the lounge.

After a while, I began to think that he had completed his stroke and was lying upstairs making noises. The hands of the big old-fashioned grandfather clock kept moving forward with little jerky jumps and I got more and more tired of standing there.

Then I heard someone coming. It wasn’t the butler. Whoever it was came along the passage quickly and lightly and then a girl came down the broad staircase. She was thin, fragile and dark. Her eyebrows were unusually straight and her eyes were very large, cobalt blue with big irises and a vague expression. She wore a pair of biscuit-coloured slacks, a burgundy sweater and a biscuit-coloured handkerchief round her head. She was all right until you came to her mouth. That gave her away. It was a tight, lipless slit of red. I could imagine her sitting up in a half dark room pulling the legs off spiders and getting a lot of fun out of it. Back and front her figure looked like she had been fed through a mangle.

“I’m Mr. Kruger’s secretary,” she said. Her voice was deep and musical.

“Well, well,” I said, “well, well, well.”

One of her eyebrows went up and she tried again, “you wanted to see Mr. Kruger?”

“That was the idea, but I’ve changed my mind. My doctor only lets me have one meal a day,” I said, adjusting my necktie. “What do you do with your evenings?”

“You’re Millan, of the New York Recorder, aren’t you?” she asked. The cobalt blue eyes had darkened.

“Yep,” I said, “Ross Millan. Just plain Ross to you. How about dating me up? The demand’s brisk, but I can manage to-night.”

“What did you want to see Mr. Kruger about?”

Somehow I didn’t feel I was making much headway, but I wasn’t discouraged, “I’ll tell him that,” I said gently. “No offence meant, but this is a little matter between men. Women have their secrets too, you know.”

“Then you’d better come upstairs,” she said and turned and walked back the way she had come.

When we reached the top of the stairs I drew level and walked by her side. “I was just kidding,” I said suddenly. “Don’t let it get your vitamins in an uproar.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Could I have your name?” I went on, “I’d like to know how to introduce you to my friends.”

“Lydia Brandt,” she said, without turning her head, “and I don’t expect to meet your friends.”

“You never know,” I said. “Strange things happen.”

She opened a door that led off the passage and stood aside, “Mr. Kruger will be in a minute.”

“But, you’re not leaving me?” I said, wandering into the room.

The cobalt blue eyes looked sultry, but she didn’t say anything. She closed the door behind her and left me in the room which was large and lined with books.

I glanced round with interest. The library was made up of the most complete collection of crime books I’d ever seen. Even police headquarters couldn’t compete with it. The books ranged from sixteenth century crime to modern crime. There were books on poison, forensic medicine, murder, blackmail, kidnapping, assault and, in fact, something of everything.

I was just getting interested in the second volume of Havelock Ellis when the door opened and Peppi came in.

All right, I admit I startled me. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years and then, as I’ve already told you, that was when he was rum running.

Now, of course, he had come up in the world. I expected a change, but not such a change as this.

He was dressed in a grey silk dressing gown with a scarlet cord. Under this, he seemed to be wearing white silk pyjamas. His face was smooth and unwrinkled as if he’d had all the electric massage in the world working on him. His small white hands were soft and well cared for and his finger nails manicured. But his eyes were the same. They were the same small pebbles of blue stone and his large bald head was the same except it shone as if he had polished it with beeswax.

We looked at each other, then he shut the door and came further into the room.

“You’ve got a swell library, Peppi,” I said, saying the first thing that came into my head.

“Who put it together for you?”

He stroked the side of his nose with his thumb. That was something new. In the old days, Peppi hadn’t time to affect mannerisms. “What do you want?” His voice was high pitched and soft. Rather like the tones of a Jap and the sound of it brought back a host of memories. I’d forgotten that high pitched, hissing voice.

“What a success story,” I said, admiring him. “I remember you a couple of years ago. And look at you now!”

“What do you want?” he repeated.

I paused and regarded him. The dead pebbly eyes told me that this wasn’t going to be a love feast, so I decided to get to the point.

“Where’s Kelly?” I asked.

“Kelly?” he repeated and frowned. “What Kelly? What are you talking about?” There was a thin edge of anger in his voice.

“There’s a fellow called Kelly I want to get in touch with,” I said, half sitting on the big oak reading table. “I hear he wanted to find you, so I thought if you two had made contact you wouldn’t mind putting him in touch with me.”

He studied me carefully. “I don’t know any Kelly,” he said, at last.

I shrugged, “Well, that’s too bad. Okay, then I’ll drift. I was under the impression that you did.”

“What do you want him for?” The question suddenly shot out like the forked tongue of a snake.

“I wouldn’t take up your time,” I said, pushing myself away from the table. “It’s nothing that’d interest you.”

He said, “Don’t go. Sit down.” There wasn’t any invitation in his voice. It was an order. Well, I had nothing to lose, so I sat down in a big armchair and relaxed.

He fidgetted with the cord of his dressing gown and I could see he was thinking about something.

“You’ve left the Recorder?” he said abruptly.

I inclined my head, “Yep,” I said. “Maddox tossed me out. That’s gratitude, after all…”

“What are you doing now?” he broke in.

“Living on my wits and capital,” I said carelessly. “I’ll get by. Why the interest?”

“I could give you something.”

I looked at him. The frog-like face, the blue stoney eyes, the bald glistening head told me nothing. All the same, I didn’t like it. I knew the kind of racket Peppi went in for. It wasn’t my line, but I had to be careful how I told him.

“I’m not looking for anything right now,” I said slowly.

“It’s a good job,” he said simply and sat down in an armchair opposite me. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t like.”

I made grunting noises. “What would it be?” I asked.

“Lu Andasca is running for election,” he said. “He wants someone to handle his publicity. It’s worth two hundred and fifty dollars a week for the right man. You could do it.”

I was startled. “Lu Andasca?” I said, “I don’t know him.”

“He’s all right,” Peppi said, examining his neat finger nails. “He’s fine.”

“What makes you think I could do it?” I asked, playing for time.

“You could do it,” he repeated. “Two fifty dollars isn’t bad, is it?”

“It’s swell,” I said, “but, right now I’ve got one or two things…”

“I wouldn’t bother about those things,” Peppi said carefully.

We looked at each other.

“After all, what do they amount to?” he went on “Shumway wouldn’t interest you. He’s an old man and finished. Kelly wouldn’t interest you. He’s a crum. Leave the girl alone. You don’t want girls. They mess up the works.”

Well, that was telling me. I didn’t know what to say.

He sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, “If Andasca gets in, there’ll be a lot of work to do,” he said. “I’m interested personally.”

I took a quick gander at my watch. It was nearly lunch time. “Look,” I said, “I’ve got a lunch date. Will you let me think it over?”

“There’s plenty of time. I’ll get my chauffeur to drop you. Where are you going to eat?” I said “Manetta’s” without thinking.

“I see,” he said. “Do you think she’s good looking?”

I stared at him “Her?” I said. “What…?”

“Myra Shumway. She’s your date, isn’t she?”

“What do you know about Myra Shumway? What’s the idea, Peppi?” I sat up. He was talking too many riddles.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said and got up and went out. I sat there wondering what the hell it was all about. Then he came back after a minute and smiled for the first time. “So you want to think it over?” he said.

“Now look, Peppi,” I said, “what do you know about Myra Shumway? Let’s get this straight.”

“I read the newspapers,” he said indifferently, “I hear things. I always hear things. Andasca is more important to me. Can you say yes or no?”

I stood up. “Give me until to-morrow. Where can I meet the guy?”

“To-morrow then,” he said. “Call me. I’ll fix a meeting. You want my car?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said, “I’ll take a taxi.”

He suddenly seemed bored with me and anxious for me to go. “Then you’ll cal. Two fifty is worth thinking about,” and he went out of the room.

He hadn’t been gone three seconds before the butler came in. “This way, sir,” he said and took me downstairs to the front door.

I was on the street and the door was closed behind me before I could collect my bewildered wits. I stood staring up at the big house and I felt someone was watching me.

So I waved to a cab and told the driver to take me to Manetta’s.

Chapter TWELVE

THERE was no sign of Myra when I got to Manetta’s, so I went into the bar.

“I’ll have a mint-julep,” I said to the barman. “And listen, I belong to the crushing school. Don’t just soak the mint leaves, crush ’em. Do you get it?”

“We always crush them here, sir,” the barrnan said, smiling, “and we wipe the rim of the glass with mint as well.”

“That’s fine,” I said, “I don’t have to tell you anything, but there are guys who soak their mint.”

“They’re just ignorant, sir,” he returned and went to the end of the bar to fix my drink. I lit a cigarette and thought about Peppi. I just couldn’t make out why he had offered me a job. Knowing Peppi I guessed there was something behind. It all and I wouldn’t mind laying a bet that he knew Kelly and that Kelly had been to see him.

While l was thinking, a girl came in. A girl in a flame coloured silk dress that reached an inch below her knees. Across her shoulders she wore a white silk scarf-handkerchief with large red spots and her cute little hat of red and white felt was perched on the side of her head in a saucy tilt.

It was Myra.

And yet, somehow, I didn’t recognize her for a moment. There was something in the way she moved and an unfamiliar expression in her eyes that made her almost a stranger to me.

As soon as she saw me she waved, smiled and came over.

“There you are,” she said. “Have I kept you waiting?”

“I—I didn’t recognize you,” I said, “maybe it’s the new dress.”

She gave me a sharp glance, “Do you like it?” she asked, smiling again. “Especially for you.”

“I think it’s swell,” I said, wondering what was different about her. “Let’s sit down. I’ve had a strenuous hour.”

She went over to one of the tables and sat down. I followed her. “Well,” I said when we were settled with our drinks, “it’s nice to rest my eyes on a beautiful woman.” I looked at her knees with interest, “You’ve got pretty elbows,” I went on, “I don’t seem to have noticed them before.”

She laughed. “You’ve developed an. awful squint since we last met.”

“Yeah,” I said, watching her closely. “You got rid of Whisky then?”

“I got rid of him,” there was a little note of grimness in her voice that made me stare still more intently. She smiled, but her eyes weren’t amused. “Did you have an interesting morning?”

“I certainly did,” I said and I told her about Peppi. She sat quietly listening and when I was through she said, “What are you going to do?”

“You mean about the job? Why, I guess nothing. I wouldn’t want to work for Peppi.”

“But, isn’t it a good job?” she asked, surprised.

“I don’t know. The money’s all right. But Peppi’s a bad guy to work with. He won’t last.”

“But you’re not working with Peppi,” she pointed out. “You’d be working with this Andasca, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s the same thing. Andasca would be Peppi’s stooge.”

“You ought to think about it,” she went on, “what will you do otherwise?”

I finished my drink, “I’ll think about it but let’s eat now,” I said, getting up.

We went into the restaurant.

After the waiters had fussed around, and we had chosen our meal, I said, “Seriously, don’t you think we ought to find your father first?”

She lifted her shoulders, “Oh, I’ve been thinking about that. You know, I don’t care very much one way or the other.”

I looked at her, “You don’t, huh?”

“No.”

“What about this girl who’s impersonating you?”

Again she shrugged. “She can’t hurt me, can she? If my father wants a cheap victory, I’m big enough to let him have it. But, don’t let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about you. Don’t you think you ought to look around for a job?”

“So you’re considering me now, are you?” I said. “That’s new, coming from you.”

She looked up and I caught a look in her eyes that set my blood jumping in my veins.

“Why shouldn’t I think about you and your future?” she asked, putting her hand on mine.

“You wouldn’t suddenly have taken into your head that you could like me a little?” I said, squeezing her hand.

“I might,” she said, “I might like you quite a lot. But, you’d have to have a steady job.”

“So what?” I said, “I can get a steady job. A guy with my experience…”

“Why not see Andasca and find out if you could work with him?” she suggested, a little too anxiously.

“Aren’t you giving this guy an awful build up?” I asked suspiciously, “I believe you want me to work for him.”

“I want you to get fixed up in a good job.”

“Well, it seems to me you’re pushing Andasca on me,” I returned. “I’ve already told you what I think of Peppi and his set-up. I can get a job, but it won’t be with Andasca.”

“You’re being pig-headed.” There was a note of anger in her voice. “Where else do you think you can earn two fifty a week?”

“That’s not such a lot of dough,” I returned. “Just shooting in articles would get me double that.”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” she said and jerked her hand from under mine.

It struck me that the lunch wasn’t going to be a success and I wanted to get her somewhere where we could have this out. There was something at the back of her mind she hadn’t told me and I wanted to know what it was.

We finished lunch almost in silence. When we did speak it was about the people in the room and stuff like that and all through the meal she didn’t once look me in the eye. By the time I got the check and followed her out of the restaurant I was feeling a little low. We stood waiting for a taxi in silence, then when one drew up, I said, “Well, what do we do? Shall we go back and take Whisky for a walk? Or shall we sit in the park or what?”

“The park,” she said.

I hadn’t been in Central Park for two years. It was nice to get back there. It was just like it always was. I guess in another fifty years it’ll be the same as it is to-day. Mothers and nurse-maids, minding children on roller skates, wagons, scooters and bikes, will be reading and gossiping in the sun long after I’ve been put under ground. Row-boats were lying on the lake as thick as water bugs and they’ll be there too. Your born and bred New Yorker with a modest income doesn’t miss the country much. He’s got Central Park with thirty tennis courts, nineteen ball fields, six hockey fields and four-and-a-half miles of bridle paths to take his girl along in the evening. That’s enough for him and it’s enough for me.

We sat on a seat in the shade and watched the people mill around. It was nice just to sit there, but at the back of my mind I had plenty to think about. When I tried to take her band, she shifted away from me.

“Don’t make an exhibition,” she said sharply.

“Who cares?” I asked, surprised. “Let’s talk about ourselves, Myra.”

“Of course,” she said, “what about ourselves?”

“Do we get married?” I said, not knowing whether that was what I wanted or not, but anxious to see how she would react.

“I don’t think so,” she said, staring across the lake at the distant couples walking close together on the other side. “Why get married? Anyway, I wouldn’t marry a man who hasn’t got a position, Why should I? I’ve been getting on all right on my own.”

“People don’t get married for position or money,” I said gently. “They get married because they love each other.”

“Who told you that?” she glanced at me quickly and laughed. “That sounds like ‘What Every Girl Should Know.’ That love stuff went out with the Civil War.”

“There are times,” I said crossly, “when I’d like to throw you into a lake. Can’t we be serious once in a while?”

“Not until you get a job. Then I might.”

“Okay, if I get a job, you’ll think about it?”

“If the job’s good enough.”

“You know, Angel skin, I’m getting a little tired of your mercenary outlook.”

She pouted. “Will you go see Andasca?” she said, “just to please me?”

“What about you?” I said, hoping to side-track. “What am I to tell Doc and Sam? Don’t you want to find your father or Kelly or the girl who looks like you?”

“Ross,” she said, gripping my hand tightly “so long as we have each other nothing matters. I just want you and I to be together always. Can’t we forget about the other two?”

“Well, we could drop them,” I said slowly, “but we’d have to tell them.”

“Then let’s tell them,” she said eagerly. “Let’s tell them now.”

“Okay,” I said, “I don’t mind” and I glanced at my watch. It was just after three o’clock.

“They should be in, unless Sam’s gone down to the poolroom.”

As we walked towards the long flight of stone steps that led out of the park, she said, “Will you see Andasca?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I’ll see him sometime this evening.”

“Promise?” she said, pressing my arm against her side.

“Promise,” I said. “If it means all that to you.”

As we entered the apartment, Sam came out of the kitchen with a worried look on his face.

“There you are,” he said, relieved. “Is Whisky with you?”

“Why, no,” I said, “Myra didn’t take him.”

Sam looked distressed, “Hell!” he said. “Then he’s lost. He went out soon after you’d gone,” he went on to Myra. “He ain’t been back. I’ve looked up and down the street, but there’s no sign of him. I thought maybe he followed you and you’d taken him for a walk.”

Myra shook her head, “I haven’t seen him,” she said.

“Oh, he’ll turn up,” I said, tossing my hat on the chair, “you know Whisky. He’s found a lady friend and is getting acquainted.”

Doc Ansell came in just then. “Found Whisky?” he asked anxiously.

“Don’t get excited,” I said. “He’ll turn up. He’s just finding his feet. A big dog like that wants some exercise and he’s having a look around.”

Ansell looked at Myra, “Well,” he said, smiling, “how pretty you look this morning. Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, pulling off her hat. “It was very nice.”

Sam said, “Aint you worried about Whisky?”

She blinked, “Why, no. If Ross thinks…”

“Ross?” Sam’s eyes opened, “Gee! Have you two gone soft on each other?”

Myra turned on me. “You’d better tell them,” she said and ran out of the room. Ansell and Sam looked at me suspiciously. “What’s buzzin’?” Sam demanded.

I wandered over to an armchair and sat down. “I don’t know,” I returned. “A lot’s happened since I last saw you,” and I told them about Peppi and Andasca and Lydia Brandt.

They sat listening in silence, then Doc said, “I’ve heard of Andasca. He’s no good to anyone.”

“So have I,” Sam said, “he used to carry a gun for Jo-jo in Chi when I was there. You don’t want to get mixed up with him.”

I jerked my thumb at the ceiling. “That’s what she wants,” I said, slowly. “She wants me to drop you two and live with her. She says nothing else matters so long as we have each other and I work for Andasca. What do you make of that?”

They didn’t make anything of it.

“She doesn’t want to be bothered with her father. She doesn’t mind being impersonated. Almost as if she was someone else,” I went on, looking hard at Ansell.

“Yes,” he said, “I see what you mean. Now, I wonder…”

“It wants looking into,” I said, closing my eyes. “Maybe I’d better see Andasca.”

“I think so,” Doc said. “Take Sam with you.”

“Where’ll I find him?” I said. “Either of you know?”

“Last time I heard of him,” Sam said, “he lived in a joint off Mulberry Park. Maybe someone knows what he’s doing now.”

“We’ll go to Mulberry Park,” I said. “In the meantime keep an eye on the girl friend. Don’t let her leave the apartment. I may be wrong, Doc, but I’m suspicious of her change of heart.”

“Leave ft to me,” Doc said, and we went out into the street, leaving him on his own.

Now, Mulberry Park lies north of the Brooklyn Bridge and a hundred yards or so from Chinatown. Right now it is a tree-shaded square which the city has equipped with swings, wading pools and showers for the kiddies. It looks quiet and faded but a century ago it was the toughest spot in Manhattan; Five Points was situated there and nearby a huge rambling building called the Old Brewery where swarms of Negroes and whites used to live. Seventy-five men, women and children once lived in one room of the Old Brewery. That ought to tell you how tough the place was. Murder was a daily occurrence and the kids in Old Brewery lived for years without leaving the rooms because in the hails they might get themselves knocked off by some guy with the blood-itch. The young punks were strong enough to stand up for themselves met their pals in alleys and there formed the first gangs of New York.

For the next hundred years the stretch from Mulberry Bend through Chatham Square and up the Bowery remained the centre of the sin industries of the metropolis. The gangs flourished.

So in those days the Mulberry Park district was plenty tough. Now the old gangs were dead, Chinatown and Mulberry Bend had faded into seeming innocence, but the district was still the breeding ground for thugs.

Anyway, it was like a breath of home to Sam as we into the Square and picked our way through the kids that cluttered up the sidewalk.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked, feeling the eyes of the slatternly women hostile on my back as they stood in open doorways of their drab, dirty apartments.

“There’s a guy I used to know,” Sam said, head, “who had a gin mill around here some place. what was his name?” He screwed up his face while he thought.

I waited patiently, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. Even the kids had stopped playing and were watching us.

“Good-time Waxey,” Sam said suddenly. “That’s the runt. He’ll know about Andasca. He knew every punk around here.”

We found Good-time Waxey behind the bar of an evil looking dive at the corner of Mulberry and Kenmare. He was lolling over the bar, the mid-day sporting sheet spread out before him, looking down the list of horses for the three o’clock handicap.

He looked up suspiciously as we fumbled our way into the dark little tavern.

“Hey, Waxey,” Sam said, grinning, “still carrying your corns in a snood?”

Waxey stiffened. His fat, brutish face, glistening with sweat, lit up and he shoved out a fist the size of a mellon. “Bogle!” he said, shaking hands, “where ta hell yuh spring from?”

Sam grinned as he pumped the big man’s arm up and down. “Thought I’d look the old dump over,” he said. “How’s tricks, Waxey?”

Waxey lost his smile, “Looka,” he said, “six years I work in dis burg, an’ where does it get me? A lousy handout a thoity bucks a month! Starvin’ an’ freezin’… fuh what? Peanuts!” and he spat disgustedly on the floor.

“Gees!” Sam said, his eyes opening. “I thought this burg was all right.”

“It was,” Waxey returned darkly, “when da boys were around. Lucky… remember Lucky?

. . When he was around, dat was somethin’. But, now… Hell, might as well wait for Santa Claus tuh take care of me.”

“Meet my pal Millan,” Sam said, pushing me forward. “He’s an all right guy, Waxey. We work together.”

Waxey looked at me sharply, then stuck out his hand. “Any pal a Sam’s pal a mine,” he said, crushing my hand in a grip that made me shuffle my feet.

“We looked in ‘cause we thought you might wise us up,” Sam said, lowering his voice. Waxey stroked his shapeless nose and his little green eyes showed interest. “Yuh in a racket, Sam?” he asked, hopefully.

“Not tight now,” Sam returned cautiously. “But, it looks like it was headin’ that way. What do you know about Andasca?”

Waxey blinked. “What yew mean?”

“Just that. This guy’s going to work for him,” Sam said, jerking his thumb in my direction.

“But he wants to know what line he’s in first.”

Waxey studied me. “Lu’s gettin’ somewhere,” he said at last. “Twenty buck shoits. A hundred an’ fifty buck custom tailored suits. Da fat a da land he live off of. An’ he’s got a flock a dames at’d make youse guys water at da mout’.”

“But what’s the set-up?” Sam persisted.

Waxey lowered his voice, “Peppi Kruger’s behind him,” he said “Between da two a dem, dey have da Bowery sewed up tight, see?”

“How tight?” Sam asked, looking hopefully at the row of dusty bottles behind Waxey’s head, “and how about a drink, Waxey?”

“Sure.” Waxey produced a black bottle without a label from under the counter. “Dis is da McCoy,” he went on, slapping the bottle down in front of us. “Help yuhselves.”

While Sam poured the drinks, I said, “I heard Kruger’s almost washed up, that’s why I’m nervous about going in with them.”

“Hoid what?” Waxey gasped, “yuh crazy? Looks yew, both dese guys are tops, see? Nuttin’s goin’ tuh stop ’em. Dere ain’t any punk tuh touch ’em now.”

But I wasn’t listening any snore. I was staring out of the tavern into the street. “Hang on, Sam,” I said suddenly, “I’ll be right back,” and I left them gaping after me.

From across the street I had caught a glimpse of a dog, moving along the shadows of the wall. That in itself wasn’t anything, but the dog was a wolfhound and you don’t see many wolfhounds in Mulberry Park.

I was certain it was Whisky.

By the time I got into the open he had disappeared, but I knew which way he had gone and I chased across the street, ducked down an evil smelling alley and ran on. Something on the ground made me pause and looking down I found that I was following a trail of bright bloodstains in a disjointed string of small circles.

I increased my pace and began calling. At the end of the alley I could see Whisky dragging himself forward painfully and slowly.

“Whisky!” I shouted and ran forward, just as the dog dropped wearily to the ground.

“What’s the matter, old dog?” I asked, bending over him anxiously.

There was no need to ask. There was a great patch of hardening blood on his shoulder. Across his head was a livid gash as if he had been hit very hard with a stick. Blood ran from his foot where he must have got himself a pretty severe cut. Whisky was in a bad way and from the exhausted look in his eyes I could see he was in need of some quick attention.

“Take it easy,” I said, kneeling beside him, “I’ll get you out of here.”

“Don’t waste time with me,” Whisky growled. “They’ve got her. They kidnapped her when she was going to meet you. That wasn’t Myra who was waiting for you at Manetta’s… that was the other one.”

“The other one?” I repeated stupidly. “Who kidnapped who? What are you talking about, Whisky boy?”

Whisky struggled to speak, then, a look of terrified dismay came into his eyes. His teeth clicked and he half struggled to his feet, only to flop back exhausted.

“Take it easy,” I said, “I’ll get Sam and we’ll fix you up, you poor old devil. But, I’ve got to know what you’re talking about. Why should anyone want to kidnap Myra?”

Whisky still clicked his teeth as if he were struggling to speak and then to my shocked and horrified surprise he began to bark.

Chapter THIRTEEN

BY the time I got back to Waxey’s dive and had collected Bogle the full meaning of what Whisky was trying to tell me had sunk in. It was completely fantastic. But, then again, the whole thing was fantastic.

So the girl hadn’t been Myra and Myra had been kidnapped. The sooner I got back to Ansell and put the screws to the girl the better. Now that Whisky had lost the power of talking, I wasn’t going to get much help from him. I would have to wait until he was well enough to take us to the place where he had been attacked. That might give me a clue.

It was no use telling Bogle that there were two Myras. He would only think I’d gone crazy. Besides, it would be a waste of time trying to convince him.

So I left Whisky in his charge and grabbed a taxi. I had told Sam to get Whisky to a dog hospital as quickly as he could and then get back to our apartment pronto. Sam, when he saw how badly hurt Whisky was, became wildly angry and upset. I managed to convince him how important it was for him to return immediately to the apartment without actually telling him details.

It was about the longest ride I ever had in a taxi and I kept urging the driver to greater speed. I don’t know why but I had the jitters all right.

When I reached our apartment block I tossed the driver his money and ran up the steps.

A moment later I was standing inside our apartment and for some unaccountable reason I felt scared. There was the same eerie atmosphere that I felt when I found Quintl’s body. No sound came to me and I called Ansell in a voice that I hardly recognized as my own.

I walked cautiously into the kitchen and looked round. There was no one there. More assured, I returned to the living room. Maybe Doc and the girl had gone out. I was just going to have a look in the bedrooms when something caught my eye which brought me up with a jolt.

From under the sofa I could see something red. I knelt down and looked. It was Myra’s flame coloured dress. It had been screwed up into a bail and shoved under the sofa. This startled me for a moment. I hooked it out and stood up.

As I unfolded it I touched a wet, sticky patch and looking at my hand I found blood on it. Right down the front of the dress was a large bloodstain, still damp.

Just for a moment I thought that she’d been killed and it gave me a tremendous shock. But when I examined the dress there was no sign of a bullet hole or a slit from a knife. It looked as if the blood had come not from her but from someone else.

Throwing the dress aside I went upstairs and blundered into Ansell’s bedroom.

He lay across the bed. There was blood on the floor and on the walls. I hadn’t realized what a little guy he was until I saw him lying like that. The front of his coat was bloodstained and his face was blue-grey. Until I touched him I thought he was dead.

And when I touched him and felt his cold hand I realized just how fond I had become of him and a wild, destructive rage swept through me. If I could have laid hands on the person who had done this I’d have killed without hesitation.

“Doc,” I said gently, scared to lift him, “what is it, Doc?”

He opened his eyes and blinked up at me, but no look of recognition came from him.

“It’s me… Millan,” I said, kneeling close to him. “What can I do? Are you badly hurt?” I knew the answer to that one before I said it. I didn’t think he’d last another two minutes.

He tried to speak, but couldn’t quite make it. I watched his lips move and I put my ear close to them, but I couldn’t hear what he was trying to say.

But he had to talk. He couldn’t go like that without telling me what had happened and who had done this. So I bolted to the sitting room and poured two Inches of Scotch into a glass and rushed back to him.

“Come on, Doc,” I said, lifting his head. “Get hold of yourself.”

The whisky did the trick, but I could see he was going fast. My only hope now was to keep him alive long enough to hear what had happened.

I could see he wanted to talk and I could see he was making a tremendous effort.

“You were right. She wasn’t Myra,” he whispered at last. “She attacked me soon after you left. I asked for It, I should have waited. Look out for her, Ross, she’s dangerous. Its the way I thought. She’s the bad one.” He closed his eyes and I thought he had gone, but he was only resting for a second or so.

I couldn’t really believe that it was possible and yet I knew the Myra we had worked with and fooled with could never have done this to him.

He began speaking again, “They’ll try and pin this on Myra,” he said falteringly. “You’ve got to cover it up somehow, Ross. I told you this might happen. Where’s Myra? What’s happened to her?”

“Now don’t worry, Doc,” I said. “I’ll fix it. You just relax. I’ll get a doctor for you. You’ll be all right.”

“You’ve got to find her and get her an alibi,” Doc went on. “Don’t call the cops until you’ve been through the place and cleaned up anything that might connect her with this. The other one’s bad. You’ve got to catch her and get rid of her before the end of the month. Don’t let her merge into Myra again. She’ll try and do it after the full moon.”

I couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but there was nothing else to do but to listen. His voice was getting weaker and he died as Sam walked in.

When Sam saw Doc he ran over to him, his eyes scared.

“He’s gone, Sam,” I said, getting off the bed. And then I realized the hopelessness of trying to explain to him how it had happened. But, I had to do it. Sam already knew too much and the thought of trying to get this fantastic business into his thick head appalled me.

Bogle took one look at Doc, then he turned and grabbed me. His grip nearly ripped the coat and shirt off my back. I thought he was going to have some kind of a fit. His face was dark with congested blood and his eyes were wild.

“Who did it?” he said, ramming me against the wall. “Open up, you punk, who did it?”

I knew it wouldn’t do to tell him. He wasn’t in a state to cope with a story like that. So I said I didn’t know and tried to break his grip. It was like heaving against the teeth of a bear— trap.

“Take it easy, Sam,” I said, “this won’t get you anywhere.”

He gave a snort and then shoved me away. I banged against the wall and nearly went over. He returned to Doc and kneeling by him he took his hand. Then he began to cry, so I went out quietly and left them together.

When I got downstairs, I didn’t know what to do. I felt sick about Doc. I felt scared for Myra and I wanted to get my hands on the other girl. I didn’t really think of her as the other girl, but as someone who had killed Doc. I went into the sitting room and poured myself out a stiff glass of whisky. Then I sat down and tried to think.

A murder had been committed. That meant the cops. It meant trying to explain something to them that I couldn’t explain to myself. If I didn’t get my explanation over, then Myra would be on the spot. The bloodstained dress was enough to set the law working on her right away. I finished my whisky and picked up the dress. Doc had said to destroy any clue that might point to her. Well, this was the first one to go.

Then the dress was snatched out of my hand by Bogle who had entered silently. He took one look at the bloodstain and he knew she had done it. “Where is she?” he said quietly.

I always looked on Bogle as a harmless sort of a jerk. But not now. He looked like a killer and he looked half crazy.

“We’ve got to talk about this,” I said. “Have a drink, Sam. It’ll pull you together.”

“So she killed him, did she?” he said, through his teeth. “She ain’t going to get away with it. That little punk was good to me. Him and me got along fine until you came along. You and her. You think a lot of that broad, don’t you? Well there won’t be much of her to think about when I’m through.”

“Don’t be a fool, Sam,” I said. “I know how you feel about Doc. He was a swell guy. But she didn’t kill him.”

“What’s this?” he held up the dress.

“Oh, I know it looks like she killed him, but she didn’t.”

“The cops can work it out,” he said, “I’m going to get a load of law here and let ’em find her. Then if she slips off the hot seat, I’ll fix her,” and he went over to the telephone.

If the cops came and found that dress, then I knew nothing could save Myra. She’d be hounded all over the country.

I jerked him round, “Leave the cops out of this,” I said, “we’ll handle it, Sam. Kruger’s behind it. Can’t you see that?”

Bogle wrenched himself away. “Do you think I’m crazy?” he said, “I know you’re nuts about her, but that ain’t stopping me. If we don’t bring the cops in, how do you think we’ll explain about Doc.”

I shrugged. “Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” I said, and moved so that I was behind him.

I didn’t like doing it, but it was the only way. I had to have a little time to clear things and make sure that Myra hadn’t left anything for the police besides the dress.

But Bogle was expecting trouble. He turned and faced me. “Don’t start anything,” he said viciously. “It won’t get you nowhere.”

“There’s no harm trying,” I said and swung over a punch that caught him on his cheekbone. He swayed back as my fist landed, so he rode most of the steam out of it. Then he moved in and his fist caught me in the ribs, sending me against the wall. Bogle could punch all right.

He lowered his hands. “Cut it out,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you and if you make me mad you’re going to get hurt plenty.”

I thought that was likely. But I could see the mess that was ahead if I didn’t stop Bogle.

I edged forward, “Can’t you use your head, Sam?” I pleaded, looking for an opening to land my right. “I tell you Myra didn’t kill him. She loved that old guy as much as you did. She wouldn’t touch him. You ought to know that.”

“Yeah?” Bogle said. “Then how come that dress? We left her with Doc, didn’t we? Where is she now?”

“Kruger’s got her, you fat fool,” I said, suddenly realizing that we were both wasting time.

“Don’t you see?” I went on, Kruger or some of his mob came here. For some reason they wanted Myra. Doc tried to stop them and they killed him. While we’re bellyaching, they’re taking her further away.”

For a brief moment, Sam looked as if he was going to fall for it, then his eyes darkened again. “The dress,” he said impatiently. “Why should Kruger want her? A guy as big as him wouldn’t want her.”

Then we both saw it at once. How I missed it in the first place I don’t know. I guess it was the shock of seeing the dress and then finding Doc that had blinded me to it. On the mantle-piece was a white envelope, propped up against the clock.

We both made a rush for it. I nearly reached it, but Bogle suddenly lashed out and his fist caught me below the ear, sending me over. It was like the Empire State Building had fallen on me and I don’t know how long I was out. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it was long enough for Bogle to open the letter and read it.

I sat up slowly and one look at Bogle’s face told me that nothing further I could say would convince him that Myra hadn’t killed Doc.

“It’s for you,” he said in a cold flat voice. “She says she knocked him off and that she’s going away. She’ll write you again when things have eased down,” and he slipped the letter into his pocket. “Talk yourself out of that!”

I shook my head clear and stood up. I had to get that letter. That was enough to send Myra to the chair. That and the dress. I realized the full significance of what Doc had said. The girl who had killed Doc was determined to pin it on Myra. With Bogle as a witness the cops had an open and shut case.

Somehow, I had to explain about the two Myras to Sam. It was the only way to save her.

“For the love of mike,” I said, “will you listen to me? Doc told me what happened. When I reached him, he managed to say enough for me to know how it went. The girl who met me at Manetta’s was not Myra. It was the girl who’s been impersonating her. She’s exactly like her,” and I went on to tell him about Whisky.

Bogle said, “You’re soft on that girl, ain’t you? You’d do anything to save her neck. Well, you’re not kidding me with a yarn like that. Tell it to the cops.”

I never hoped he’d believe it, but I had to try. There was only one way to settle this. I had to destroy both the areas and the letter. So I went into action with both hands. But, I went in much more cautiously this time. I feinted with my left and then hooked with my right. Bogle knew all about that kind of fighting. He took the right on his forearm and came back with a heavy punch to my face. But, I was getting mad now and I rushed him, smothering his punches and driving him across the room. I forced him against the wall and slammed in two solid punches before he drove me away with a stunning uppercut.

I went in again and ran into a haymaker that nearly took my head off my shoulders. I felt myself floating and then I whammed against the wall with a jolt that knocked the wind out of me.

Bogle shuffled across the room after me. As I crawled to my feet, I caught a glimpse of his face and that sent me cold. He was fighting mad now and I’d be lucky to get out of this alive. He banged me one on the side of the head before I was half up and then pumped a couple into my stomach.

Being hit by Bogle was like being beaten by a sledge hammer. My ribs bent every time he hit me in the body. Those slams hurt more than when he caught me in the face.

I managed to shake myself loose and got in a lucky one that sent him back. Somehow I went in and landed one on his mouth. He grunted and I knew he was hurt. But, I couldn’t stop him. He was too tough and he was twenty pounds heavier.

He got in close and hit me four times in the ribs with punches that didn’t travel more than a couple of inches. It felt like being under a pile drive. I felt my knees going and I grabbed hold of him to stop myself falling. He shoved me off and dimly I saw something coming at me. It looked like a football whizzing through the air. I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even try to get out of the way. Then it exploded on the side of my jaw, and that was that.

I was alone when I came to the surface. I sat up slowly and felt my jaw. It was swollen, but I was relieved it wasn’t broken.

I got to my feet and wandered over to the whisky bottle. The liquor did me a lot of good and a second shot did even better. I wasn’t mad at Bogle. From his point of view he had done the right thing. I’d have done the same if I’d been in his place.

I went into the bathroom and bathed my face. It looked a little better by the time I was through, and as I was leaving the bathroom I heard the wail of police sirens.

Sam was standing in the hall. His face was bruised and puffy, but he looked almost handsome beside me.

We looked at each other. Then he said a little shamefaced, “I’m sorry, Bud, but you had to stick your neck out. My beef ain’t with you, but I’m not letting that dame get away with this. I can’t help it if you’re soft on her, can I?”

I said, “No, but you’re making an awful mistake, Sam,” and went into the sitting room. Then the law walked in. There was Clancy of the Homicide Bureau, who I knew quite well, and a couple of patrolmen and a cameraman.

I heard a lot of talking going on outside in the hall, but I was past caring what happened. I had to wait to see how things shaped, then try to get Myra out of the jam.

I heard Clancy go upstairs to look at Doc. They were up there some time, then Clancy came down with Bogle, leaving the others to work on finger-prints and stuff like that in Doc’s room.

Clancy was a little fat guy, with eyebrows like overgrown shrubs and a blue-black jowl which made him look tough. He usually dwelt behind a dead cigar and modelled his inanners along motion picture lines. He wasn’t the brightest star of the Homicide Bureau, and I was sorry he was handling the case.

He came in and stood over me. “Well, well,” he said, surprised, “Ross Millan! What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Clancy,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “I haven’t seen you for a Long time.”

He stared in astonishment at my face, then he looked at Bogle, “Hey!” he said, “what’s this? You two been fighting?”

“Fighting?” I said. “What makes you think that?”

“Don’t stall,” he snapped, “look at your face.”

“Oh, that,” I shrugged. “That’s the way I wear my face these days. You pick up odd habits in Mexico. Some guys wear beards, some wear ear-rings, I wear bruises. It’s considered the thing in Mexico, isn’t it, Sam?”

Bogle didn’t say anything. He wasn’t quite at ease with the cops.

“Still smart, eh?” Clancy said. “What have you two been fighting about?”

“Oh, we like to keep tough,” I said, “it’s got nothing to do with this business. All kidding aside, Clancy, it’s just our form of self-expression.”

Clancy chewed his cigar and eyed me suspiciously. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll skip that for the moment. How are you tied up in this business?”

I told him in a few words how I had met Doc and Bogle in Mexico, but I didn’t say anything about Myra.

“What do you know about this girl?” He shot the question out as if he’d got a half a dozen cameras focussed on him and a bunch of admirers waiting for his autograph.

“Which girl?” I asked, carefully.

“You know,” he said darkly, “Myra Shumway.”

“I know that,” I said, “but which Myra Shumway? There are two of ’em.” That slowed him down.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, “what do you mean… two of ’em?”

“Look, Clancy,” I said, “there is a lot behind this business that you don’t know. It’s going to be difficult for you to understand, but if you’ll take the weight off your feet and lay off pulling the tough copper on me, I’ll try and explain.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam said savagely. “He’s nuts about the girl.”

Clancy hadn’t much use for Bogle, “Clam up!” he snapped.

“When I want a commentary from you I’ll let you know.” He turned to me, “Now, what is it?” he said.

I waved to a chair, “Sit down,” I said. “It’s going to take time and you’ll need all your energy to keep your brain working.”

“Leave my brain out of it. You be careful of yourself Millan. I know you think you’re smart, but if you’re trying to make a monkey out of me I’ll slam you in the cooler as a material witness. How would you like that?”

“Now don’t let’s have threats,” I said, but I was a little dismayed If I were in jail there would be no one to help Myra.

“Come on, Millan, don’t stall,” he said.

I wasn’t going to be rushed. The idea of telling a guy like Clancy the whole story of the Mexican business appalled me, but I had to do it.

So I sat and talked. Clancy sat listening with a drowsy expression in his eyes. He even put a match to his cigar, which let off a rank smell. He didn’t seem to like ft himself, because he let it out after a couple of drags. At that rate a cigar could last him a couple of weeks. This one smelt like he’d had it for years.

I nearly gave up half way, because I could see it was hopeless He didn’t know whether I was crazy or whether I was stringing him. So he just got hotter and hotter until I thought he was going to catch on fire.

“Well,” I said, “that’s the way it is. Someone’s kidnapped Myra and her other half killed Ansell.”

I didn’t mention Kruger. I knew Kruger had a lot of influence and I wanted to go for him on my own without police interference.

“What a story to take to a judge!” Clancy said, drawing a deep breath. “If I didn’t know you, Millan, and if we hadn’t knocked around in the past, I’d toss you into jail right now for wasting my time. Do you think anybody but a lunatic would believe a yarn like that?”

I waved my hand to Bogle, “Your witness, Clancy. He’ll bear me out. Sausage, talking dog, floating woman and the whole set-up.”

“Well,” Clancy snarled at Bogle, “what have you got to say? Did you see this guy turn into a sausage?”

Bogle looked at me and then at Clancy, “I told you he was trying to gum up the works,” he said. “I didn’t see any of that stuff, because it just didn’t happen.”

I half rose from my seat, “Why, you dirty heel!” I said furiously, “you know as well as I do it’s all true!”

“Like hell it is!” Clancy suddenly roared. “I’ve had enough of this, Millan. You either talk turkey or you’ll come down to headquarters.”

“But, I tell you…” I began.

“Okay,” Clancy said, getting to his feet, “come on, the pair of you. I’ve had all I can stand of this. We’ll see what the chief’s got to say.”

I looked at Bogle, “So that’s the way you’re going to play it.”

Bogle’s face twitched, “She’s going to pay for this,” he said viciously, “and you’re not talking her way out of it. If these flatfeet don’t pin it on her, then I’ll fix her, but she don’t knock Doc off without footin’ the bill.”

“Who are you calling a flatfoot?” Clancy demanded angrily.

Bogle sneered, “What makes you think you’re anything but a fallen arch?” he demanded. Before Clancy could come back on this the wagon rolled up to take Doc away.

We all stood silently watching, and when the stretcher came down. Sam began to cry again.

Chapter FOURTEEN

THE police captain was a guy named Summers. I knew him pretty well and he wasn’t a bad guy if he felt like it. Otherwise, he had a temper like a flea on a hot stove and was liable to fly off the handle without warning.

They kept me waiting nearly four hours before they took me to his office and the wait nearly drove me crazy.

“Hullo, Millan,” he said when Clancy pushed me into the room. “I’m sorry we had to keep you. Sit down.”

Clancy stood behind Summers and gnawed dismally at his dead cigar.

I sat down after shaking hands. “That’s all right,” I said, trying to look as if I hadn’t a care in the world. “It’s just one of those things.”

“Yep, I guess so,” he studied me for a long minute, then took out a box of cigars and pushed them over, “Help yourself,” he said.

When we had lit up he said, “Not like you to be mixed up in murder. I thought you were too smart for that.”

“I’m not mixed up in anything,” I said firmly. “Don’t go making any mistake about that. I just found the poor little guy.”

“Yeah, you just found him. Why did this girl leave a note telling you she had knocked him off?”

“This is a tough story to tell,” I said slowly. “But, she didn’t kill him and she didn’t write that note. The other girl did both those things.”

“The other girl?” He hid behind a cloud of oily smoke. “Oh that! Man into sausage, talking dog and floating woman. Yeah, Clancy was telling me.”

Clancy shifted from one foot to the other and then a silence fell so that I could hear the watch on my wrist like it was an alarm clock.

“You’ve got to do better than that,” Summers said at last. “I wouldn’t want you telling me a whopper like that. Maybe, it amused you to kid Clancy, but it wouldn’t amuse you for long to kid me.”

We eyed each other and I decided that I bad to think up something else.

“Okay,” I said. “Why not ask the girl? Why ask me?”

“We will when we’ve found her,” Summers returned. “We’ll ask her a lot of things, then we’ll sit her on a nice hot seat and fry her.”

Well, anyway, they hadn’t found her yet. That was something.

“She was your girl, wasn’t she, Millan?” he went on casually. I shook my head.

“No, I liked her. She was good fun, but that’s all.”

“This guy Bogle says different.”

“You don’t want to believe what he says,” I returned. “You see, he was the little guy’s pal. He thinks Myra killed him and he’ll say anything to get her convicted. He’s prejudiced.”

“Don’t you think she killed him?”

“I’ve told you already,” I said sharply. “Of course she didn’t.”

“I guess you’re the only guy who thinks so. Why, she even says she killed him herself,” and he tapped a sheet of notepaper which I recognized as the note Bogle had taken.

“Well,” I said, uncrossing my legs. “You’ve got what looks like a confession and you’ve got the stained dress. There isn’t much I can do about it.”

“The knife had her finger-prints on it,” Summers said, caressing the back of his head gently. “We found a strand of her hair in the old guy’s coat. Nope, it’s a cinch, Millan, so you’d better be careful.”

“I shrugged. “Well, I can’t help you. I would if I could, but If my story’s too much for you to swallow, I give up.”

He eyed me thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said. “Give. I’ve known you a long time, Millan, and

I don’t think you’re a liar. So tell me. I’ll listen anyway.” Clancy groaned, but neither of us took any notice of him.

So I told him what I’d told Clancy, only I gave him a lot more details.

Summers listened, caressing the back of his head the whole time. His cold, blank eyes never left my face, and when I was through he nodded.

“Well, I have to hand it to you, Millan. It’s some yarn.”

“Yeah, it’s some yarn, like you say.”

“So the dog talks, huh? A real honest to gawd dog—talking. Where’s the dog now?”

“He’s in a dog hospital some place. Bogle took him. Ask Bogle. He’ll tell you.”

“We’ve already asked Bogle about the dog. He says it never talked.”

“Then telephone the dog hospitals. The nearest one to Mulberry Park ought to find him.” Summers brightened a little. “Do it,” he said to Clancy. “I’d like to hear a dog talk.”

Then, with a sudden feeling of sickness, I remembered. “Wait,” I said. “He doesn’t talk any more. Someone hit him on the head and he just barks now.”

There was a long, painful silence and Summers’ beefy face grew dark. “Oh, so he just barks now,” he repeated, then seeing Clancy hesitate, he snapped. “Get after him all the same. I want to know if an injured dog’s been picked up recently.”

Clancy went out.

“I’m sorry Summers,” I said. “This sounds phoney, but he did talk yesterday. I swear he did.”

“So the dog doesn’t talk any more and maybe the woman’s given up floating,” Siunmers said, his eyes glinted with anger. “If I didn’t know you, Millan, you might be in for a bad time. I might even get some of the boys to give you a shellacking.”

I shifted restlessly. “Give me a chance to prove it,” I said suddenly. I remembered that Summers used to stake all his pay on a single cut of the cards. I’ve even seen him gamble with his next month’s salary. He was far more likely to play along if I appealed to his sporting instinct. “Look, Summers, if I bring these two girls to this office and let you see them, will that convince you?”

“How would you do that?” he asked, but the glint went out of his eyes.

“Give me a couple of weeks. I’ve got to find them first and that’ll take some digging around. But I’ll find them all right if you call off your bloodhounds and give me a free hand.”

“What do you think the newspapers’ll say if I don’t get action in the next day or so?” he asked, pulling at his short thick nose and looking at me old fashioned. “You’re in the business. You know what a ride I’ll get.”

“I’ve been in the game long enough to know that if you want to stall the newspapers you can do it,” I returned, feeling that I had the thin end in the crack and it only needed one good smack to drive it home. “There’s something much bigger than murder behind all this. It’s going to be a whale of a story and it’ll do you a hell of a lot of good to be tied up in it on the right side. I tell you, if you grab Myra Shumway and try to pin the murder on her, you’ll be passing up something that someone on top is trying to cover up. Let me handle it for a couple of weeks and I’ll give it to you on a plate.”

“What someone on top?” he asked, interested.

“That’s my affair, Summers,” I said. “I may be wrong, but I don’t think so. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“I suppose you realize that I could hold you as an accessory after the fact on that statement,” Summers said, his voice suddenly cold.

“Where are your witnesses? I didn’t say anything.”

He tried to get mad, but then grinned. “I’ll give you a week,” he said. “You’ve got a week from now to bring the two girls to this office. If you don’t, then I’ll issue a warrant for your arrest as an accessory and we’ll see if we can’t persuade you to talk. How’s that?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Suits me,” I said and put out my hand.

He shook it casually. “Okay, Millan,” he said. “You can beat it. Remember, I want you here this time next week with the two girls. You’re not to leave the City unless you tell me where you’re going. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and made for the door.

“I don’t think you’re going to be very lucky,” he said as I was going out. “I don’t think there are two girls.”

“We’ll talk about that when next we meet,” I said, and closed the door behind me.

Clancy was coming along the passage and he stared at me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Summers doesn’t want me until next week,” I said cheerfully. “Any news of my dog?”

“Yeah,” he said. “There was a wolfhound at the Eastern Dog Hospital with a bang on his dome, but he took it on the lam before anyone could take care of him. Maybe that was your dog.”

“Maybe it was,” I said. “Now, will you have a talk with Bogle about that? It looks like I’m not the only guy who can tell stories.”

Clancy’s face became grim. “I’ll talk to him,” he said sourly.

“And Clancy, if you can keep him on ice for a week, you’ll be doing me a favour.”

“I will, will I?” he looked at me hard. “What are you up to?”

“Never mind that,” I said. “You ask Summers, he’ll tell you. But Bogle’s got the wrong idea and he’ll be better off out of the way. Do what you can for me, will you? I’ll give you a good write-up if I handle the story.”

“That reminds me,” Clancy said, snapping his thick fingers. “Maddox ‘phoned through a couple of hours back. He wanted you to go around to his office right away.”

This startled me. “Maddox?” I repeated. “Wants to see me?”

“Yeah,” Clancy said.

“Okay, thanks, Clancy. Be seeing you. So long,” and I beat it out of Headquarters as fast as I could travel.

As I got into the street a cruising taxi slowed down and the driver looked at me hopefully. I nodded and he stopped.

“Recorder office,” I said, and jerked open the door. Then I paused.

There was a girl sitting in the far corner.

“What’s the idea?” I demanded, turning on the driver. “You’ve got a customer, you pudden-headed monkey.”

“Get in, Mr. Millan,” the girl said. “I want to talk to you.” The voice was familiar and I looked back into the cab. Lydia Brandt was sitting there and in her hand she held a small, businesslike automatic. Its snub nose was pointed at my waistcoat.

“Why, hello,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Get in,” she repeated. “Unless you want another belly button.”

“Not outside police headquarters,” I said hastily. “It’d be bad for their nerves,” and I got in and sat down gingerly beside her.

The driver shot the cab away from the curb and took off down the street.

Lydia Brandt was dressed in a smart olive green dress, and cerise turban, gloves, handbag and shoes. She looked like Fifth Avenue.

“Didn’t I tell you I was susceptible to your feminine lure, you beautiful butterfly? I don’t need kidnapping at the point of a gun,” I said, watching her closely because I didn’t like the efficient, almost careless way she handled the automatic. From that range a slug from that pop-gun could make me awfully unhappy.

“Mr. Kruger wants to see you,” she said indifferently. “I thought you might not be anxious to come.”

“What, not see Peppi?” I said. “You don’t know me. He’s a guy I dream about. I want his autograph and I’ll wear his old clothes.”

“Very funny,” she said, .her eyes darkening. “You’ll laugh the other side of your face before long.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I returned, smiling at her. “Peppi wants to give me a job. I was going to call him anyway.”

She put the automatic on top of her bag and folded her long, slim fingers over it. Its barrel still pointed at me, but she had taken her finger off the trigger and that gave me more confidence. “You want to be sure to pick someone smaller than yourself next time you start fighting,” she said, eyeing my bruises.

“Never mind that,” I said, relaxing. “You know it was a dumb trick to pick me up outside police headquarters. Both from Peppi’s and my own point of view. It’s not the smartest thing to let the cops know that we are interested in each other.”

“What do you mean?” She looked searchingly at me.

“I’ve been turned loose, but I’m willing to bet my last pair of socks that I’ve got a load of law tailing me and I’ll be tailed from now on.”

I’d hit the right note. She looked alarmed.

“Tailing you?” she repeated and looked hastily through the little rear window.

There was a lot of traffic on the road and she didn’t see any particular car that attracted attention.

But the movement was enough for me. I had her gun before she knew what I was doing. I put it in my pocket. “You’ll excuse me,” I said. “But that heater made me nervous.”

She sat glowering at me.

“And now,” I went on. “Let’s be sensible. Tell the driver to take us to my apartment. I want to talk to you.”

“You can talk here,” she said, her voice off key.

“Don’t be a dope,” I said sharply. “You’ve had your fun. I’m going to have mine.” I leaned forward and told the driver my address. “And make it snappy, Happy,” I added.

He made no move to change direction, but kept on towards Fifth Avenue.

“One of your boys?” I said, looking at her.

She didn’t say anything, but I could see I was right. I took her automatic out of my pocket and rammed it into the driver’s neck. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” I said.

He swung off the main street and I sat back.

“You’ll pay for this,” she said angrily.

“Be smart,” I returned. “Look back now,” and I indicated a large black car sitting on our tail. “That’s the law, and let me tell you something: I’m tied up in a murder case. If they think Peppi’s in on this, they’ll take him apart just for the fun of it.”

I could see she didn’t know what to think.

“You don’t have to get your girdle twisted,” I went on. “I just want to have a little talk with you, then I’ll go over and see Peppi. But, before I do, I’ve got to shake these coppers.”

Neither of us said anything until we reached my apartment, then as she got out of the taxi I cautioned her, “Don’t make a fuss,” I said, “just go straight in.”

The driver, a thin, weedy youth looked at her enquiringly but she crossed the sidewalk without saying anything to him and entered my apartment. I gave him a half a buck. “Tell Peppi I’ll be along in a little while,” I said, and left him staring after me.

As Lydia and I entered the apartment house the big black car swept by. I caught a glimpse of Clancy, looking back through the window then I shut the front door quietly.

“Sit down and make yourself at home,” I said, waving to the armchair.

She faced me. “What do you want?” she demanded angrily. Her cobalt blue eyes were dark and the lines of her mouth hard.

I took her arm and shoved her gently into the chair. “I want to talk to you,” I said and stood over her. “Ansell was murdered this afternoon. He was killed by a girl who’s impersonating Myra Shumway.”

“He was killed by Myra Shumway,” Lydia said softly. “Well, anyway that told me where we stood.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“With Mr. Kruger.”

“The other one’s with him too?”

“There’s no other one.”

“Oh yes there is,” I said grimly. “This talk’s off the record. Neither of us have witnesses and I want to get things clear.”

“There’s no other one,” she repeated.

“Okay, there’s no other one. What is Kruger going to do with her?”

“He’ll tell you when he sees you.”

“That’s what he wants to see me about?”

“Why did she kill Doc. Ansell?”

“You’d better ask her that yourself.”

“You tell me.”

She didn’t say anything.

I pushed myself off the table and wandered to the window. There was a guy on the opposite side of the street, hiding behind a newspaper. He had copper written all over him from his hard hat to his fiat feet. I turned back to Lydia.

“Where does Andasca come into all this?”

“You’d better let me go,” she said suddenly, gathering up her bag and gloves. “This has gone on long enough.”

“So it has,” I said. “So it has.”

I didn’t like doing it, but the idea only occurred to me as she stood up. It was one of those ideas that come like a bolt from the blue and are so good that you’ve just got to play them without thinking.

I hit her on the point of her chin with a short tight. I’ll swear she never felt it and she was on the floor before I had regained my balance.

I knelt beside her, lifted her eyelid. She was out for a long count. Well, if Peppi had Myra, I certainly had Lydia. In playing with a rat like Peppi it was just as good to have one of his toys if he had one of yours.

I took a quick gander out of the window. The copper was still there. That was going to make things difficult but not impossible.

I went into the bathroom and found a long roll of adhesive tape. Then I came back into the sitting room and taped Lydia’s hands and ankles. I gagged her with my best silk handkerchief and put her on the sofa.

Then I lit a cigarette and did some thinking. The moment Peppi knew I had her .he’d send a bunch of strongarrns to my apartment. So she’d have to be moved from here. The question was where could I put her? And when I’d found the right place, how was I going to get her out with that copper nesting on my doorstep?

This certainly called for a little thought.

There was the back way out of the apartment block. But, I guessed there’d be a copper watching that too. I went into the kitchen and looked out into the alley. I was right. A big beefy man loitered at the entrance of the alley.

How I was to get out of this building with Lydia and not be seen baffled me. I couldn’t imagine her going with me willingly, now that I had dipped her. And to carry her out with the law looking on just wouldn’t do.

I had to work fast. I had to get her out of the place before the taxi driver could wise Peppi up that I’d taken her gun and forced her into my apartment. In a way, the cops guarding both entrances prevented Peppi sending a bunch of toughs to beat me up. That was about the only consolation I had.

I wandered upstairs, trying to think of a way out. I went into my room, saw nothing to give me an idea and wandered out into Myra’s room.

It was lucky I did. Propped up in a corner was a life-size dummy of a girl, modelled along Myra’s lines. It was a prop she used as a magician and it gave me an idea.

The dummy was in an evening dress and was made so that it could stand up or sit down. I went over to it and lifted it. It wasn’t heavy.

I carried it down into the sitting room and laid it by Lydia’s side.

Then I had another look at the copper standing out in front. I’d never seen him before and that meant he wouldn’t be familiar with my looks.

Then I went into my room and selected a light suit in contrast to the one I had been wearing, dug out a slouch hat which I jammed over my eyes. Then I went over to the bed and stripped off the two sheets and went downstairs again.

In the room there was a small, round table, the top of which measured about a foot and a half in diameter. This would just suit my purpose. I got a screwdriver and took it apart.

Then I sat on the floor and swapped a table leg behind each of Lydia’s knees with adhesive tape. I strapped the other two legs to her body.

I stood her up. The wooden table legs kept her rigid and that was just what I wanted. Putting her back on the floor, I took off her shoes and went into the kitchen where I found some long screws. I screwed her shoes to the table top. Then with some difficulty I put the shoes on her feet again and laced them securely.

Then I stood her up again and stepped away from her. She looked like a wax dummy on its stand that you see in any dressmaker’s shop.

All this had taken about ten minutes and I had to hurry. I put some more adhesive tape round her mouth and fastened her arms to the table legs. I didn’t think, if she did come to the surface, she could move or attract attention.

Then I covered her with one of the sheets and tied the sheet round her waist with a length of string. I did exactly the same with the dummy.

Side by side, under the sheets, you couldn’t tell which was the dummy and which was Lydia.

Now the tricky part of the business began. The apartment house was divided into wings. We lived in the West wing and each wing was connected by a long corridor. There were four entrances all leading out to the same street, so the copper who was watching outside could see all entrances at once.

But I reasoned this way. He saw me go in with Lydia by the West entrance. He knew I was wearing a dark suit. I had to hope that if I came out of the North entrance with a light suit on he might not connect me with the guy he saw going in the West entrance. Anyway, that was how I had to play it.

I picked Lydia up under one arm and the dummy under the other. Together they were plenty heavy, but I managed. I walked out of my apartment down the corridor, until I came to the North hall. I left Lydia and the dummy there and giving my bat another jerk over my face, I walked out into the street.

I felt as if every eye in the police force were watching me. I glanced right and left. The cop, who’d parked himself outside the West entrance was moving slowly towards me. He wasn’t suspicious, but I guess he just wanted to make sure.

I turned and walked very slowly towards him. I saw him hesitate and then turn back to the West entrance. Who said that attack wasn’t the best form of defence?

I looked back over my shoulder and then paused on the curb. When a taxi passed, I yelled and the driver crammed on his brakes.

As he nailed the taxi beside me, a patrolman wandered past. He looked at me casually and I took a chance.

“Hey, officer!” I called, moving towards him, “I want some help and your protection.”

He looked puzzled, but his face brightened when he saw the five bucks I was folding carefully. That’s one language all cops understand.

“Sure,” he said. “Any little thing.”

I slipped him the dough. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the copper who had been watching the West wing suddenly show interest in what was going on. He began to move towards me.

I grabbed the patrolman’s arm, “Come in, officer,” I said, leading him into the lobby. “This is a gag. I’ve got a couple of dummies to put in my pal’s bed. I’ve been waiting to get even with him for some time and his wife’s a jealous woman.”

While I was speaking I’d got him up to Lydia and the dummy. I took the dummy and opened up the sheet so that he could see the papier mâché face. “Doesn’t she look like the real thing?” I asked.

He gaped at it. “You’re going to put that in some guy’s bed?” he said, astonished.

“I’m going to do a lot better than that,” I told him, “I’m going to put both of them in a guy’s bed.”

I thought he’d break a blood vessel. I haven’t seen a guy laugh so much in years. All the time he was smacking his leg and bellowing I had to stand by and pretend I enjoyed the joke. But I was losing weight every second wondering if Lydia was coming to the surface and whether if she moved he’d spot her.

“Give me a hand,” I urged, when he stopped laughing to mop his eyes, and I shoved the dummy into his arms. “Will you put her in the taxi? If the driver sees this without the law around he’ll think I’m kidnapping someone. And listen, don’t let your lack of chivalry take advantage of a lady who can’t protect herself.”

That set him off again. He gathered the dummy up in his arms. “Do you waltz, madam?” he asked, and then locking at me he said, “Her breath smelts of Scotch.”

“What of It?” I demanded, “you’d smell of something too it you were as stiff as she is.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I hadn’t thought of that,” and he staggered out into the Street, snorting with mirth.

I grabbed Lydia, who stirred as I picked her up. I felt the sweat running down my back, but I had to go through with it. Moving fast, I joined the patrolman by the taxi.

At that second, the copper drifted up and stood looking at us with a disapproving eye.

“What goes on?” he demanded, staring at the two shrouded figures and then at the patrolman.

“Well, if it ain’t O’Hara,” the patrolman said, losing his good humoured expression. “Holy Moses! Don’t I ever get any privacy on my beat?”

“I’m on a special job,” O’Hara said. “What have you got there?”

“You look after your special job,” the patrolman said shortly. “I’m just helping this guy kidnap a couple of dames,” and he began laughing again.

Both O’Hara and the taxi-driver were staring now with eyes like door-knobs.

I tried to edge round O’Hara and get into the taxi, but he was too near the door and I couldn’t quite make it. I was scared of attracting his attention. Up to now he hadn’t even looked at me.

“Kidnapping?” he repeated stupidly, “I don’t get it. That’s a Federal offence.”

The patrolman turned to me, “This guy started the rumour that dicks were dumb,” he said, and went off into another spluttering guffaw.

O’Hara began to get mad. He turned on me. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “What have you got here?”

“Show him, officer,” I said, trying to smile. “We shouldn’t keep it to ourselves. He might run us in.”

“These are dummies, you big sap,” the patrolman said to O’Hara. “This guy’s going to put them into his pal’s bed. Ain’t that funny?”

“Dummies?” O’Hare repeated blankly. “How do you know they’re dummies?”

“What the hell else do you think they are… corpses?” The patrolman began to get heated,

“Are you nuts? Think I’d help get corpses in a cab?”

“You might do anything,” O’Hara said, darkly. “I’ve heard things about you.”

The patrolman thrust the dummy into my arms and clenched his fists. “Yeah?” he said, pushing his face into O’Hara’s. “What kind of things?”

“Never mind what kind of things,” O’Hara returned airily. “But I’ve heard enough to know you ain’t so hot.”

Lydia stirred in my arms and then she made a small grunting noise.

Both O’Hara and the patrolman stopped glaring at each other and turned to me.

“That was the cucumber I had for dinner,” I said hurriedly.

“Well, you cut out eating cucumber,” O’Hare said, “I don’t like that kind of noise.”

“Why shouldn’t the guy eat cucumber?” the patrolman demanded fiercely. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

O’Hara scowled, “I know who I am,” he said with a sneer, “that’s more than I can say for some people.”

By this time, the taxi-driver was losing patience. “Listen, you guys,” he said plaintively, “are you using this cab or ain’t you?”

Both O’Hara and the patrolman rounded on him.

“You stick around and like it,” the patrolman snarled. “We’ll tell you when we’re ready, see?”

The driver began to tremble with temper, “I ain’t scared of a couple of coppers,” he said. O’Hara turned his attention to me. “How do I know they’re dummies?” he demanded, fixing me with a cold eye.

I suddenly lost my own temper and shoved the dummy at him. “Look and see,” I said angrily, “I’m getting fed up with this. I ask this officer to give me a hand and the whole damned police force has to come along and shoot its mouth off.”

“Yeah,” the patrolman said, ranging himself on my side, “what he says is right.”

O’Hara felt the dummy gingerly, took a peep at its face and seemed satisfied. “Well, it’s a crazy trick, anyway,” he said, handing the dummy back to the patrolman.

“Who wants your opinion?” I said, opening the cab door.

As I began putting Lydia into the cab, she grunted again.

O’Hara said, “Cucumber, huh?”

I looked back over my shoulder, “You must be psychic,” I said and got into the cab.

“Just a minute,” O’Hara said, pushing forward, “I want to look at the other dummy.”

That nearly brought me out in a rash.

“If you think I’m going to unpack this just to satisfy your curiosity, you’re crazy,” I said, slamming the door.

“Leave him alone,” the patrolman said, “you pain in the neck.”

I could see O’Hara was determined. He yanked open the door again. “I’m seeing that other dummy,” he said between his teeth, “and if you start anything, I’ll take you to the station.”

I got out of the cab again. At least, it would give me a chance to run.

Then just as he was laying hands on Lydia, a guy came out of the West entrance of the apartment block and set off fast, walking away from us.

“Isn’t that the guy you’re watching?” I said, jerking O’Hara out of the cab and pointing excitedly.

He took one look, cursed under his breath and broke into a frantic run.

I turned to the patrolman, “Can I scram before he comes back?” I rustled another five-buck note because I didn’t think he could see it in the darkness.

“Sure,” he said, reaching out his hand, “you get off.”

“West Forty-fourth,” I said, saying the first thing that came into my mind. “And step on it.” As the cab shot away I sank back between Lydia and the dummy and drew a deep breath of relief. Even when Lydia began to wriggle violently and let off a few grunts I couldn’t care less.

“That’s some cucumber you’ve been eating,” the driver said chattily. “Yes, sir, your grocer sure must have an uneasy conscience.”

I put my hand over Lydia’s mouth.

“If you don’t shut up,” I said to her fiercely, “I’ll strangle you.”

The car lurched and the driver said, “Was you talking to me?”

“Don’t be a dope, I can talk to my stomach if I like, can’t I?” I returned, squeezing Lydia’s face between my fingers.

“I wish you wouldn’t, mister,” the driver pleaded. “It makes me kind of nervous. Besides, you don’t strangle stomachs, you kick ’em or you poison ’em, but you don’t strangle ’em.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I returned, wiping the sweat of my face with my free hand, “Thanks, pal, I’ll know next time.”

“You’re welcome,” the driver returned airily, “It’s guys who use their brains that get places.”

I agreed with him.

Chapter FIFTEEN

PAPPI’S butler showed no surprise when he opened the front door and found me on the doorstep.

“Come in, sir,” he said, stepping to one side.

“Peppi in?” I asked, tossing my hat on the large mahogany table that stood in the hall.

“Mr. Kruger’s in, sir,” he corrected me. “He’s expecting you.

“Swell,” I said, fingering my tie.

He closed the front door, “I trust Miss Brandt is in the best of health, sir?” he said quietly.

I eyed him, but his face was Inscrutable. “So far as I know,” I returned. “But, the modern woman varies from hour to hour. Shall we say, she was all right when last I saw her?”

Just for a second, he looked as if he wanted to slug me and then the poker face came back again. “Miss Brandt has been very kind to me in the past,” he said, as if to explain his curiosity.

“I’m glad,” I said. “One of these days you must tell me all about your love life. It should be very, very interesting.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, and I could see that he was hating my guts. “Will you come this way, please?”

I followed him up the stairs and into the library.

“Mr. Kruger won’t keep you long,” he said.

“Tell him not to stop to brush his teeth. I ain’t particular,” I said.

“Very good, sir,” the butler returned, and went out, closing the door behind him.

Peppi came in a moment later.

He stood looking at me and I could see he liked me a lot less than when we had met previously.

“There you are,” I said, admiring his suit “What a well-turned-out guy you’ve turned out to be.”

“Where is she?” he said.

That’s one thing I liked about Peppi. He didn’t waste time getting to the point.

“That’s the question I was going to ask you,” I said, looking up at him from my chair.

It was certainly a smart idea when I grabbed Lydia. I had no idea that both the butler and Peppi would start running round in circles.

Peppi drew a hissing breath through his teeth and controlled himself with an effort. “I’m talking about Miss Brandt,” he said, his small hands clenched at his sides. “Where is she?”

“And I am talking about Miss Shumway. Be your age, Peppi, this won’t get us anywhere. Turn Myra over to me and you can have Lydia. I’m just trying to even the odds.”

“I see,” he said, and suddenly smiled. “Very clever of you, Millan, very clever.” He drew up a chair and sat down. “You are taking a chance on getting me mad, but I think we can come to an agreement.”

“I hope so,” I returned, watching him carefully. The change round was a little too sudden.

“You haven’t hurt her?” There was an anxious note in his voice.

“I tell you what I haven’t done,” I said, looking at him coldly, “I haven’t framed her for murder. So you’re still one up on me.”

He examined his finger nails, “No one’s been framed for murder,” he said. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“We’re wasting time,” I said. “I want Myra and you want Lydia. That’s all there’s to it. Do we make a deal?”

“If I had Miss Shumway, then, of course, we’d make a deal,” he said smoothly. “But she got away.”

“Then maybe Lydia will get away, but I doubt it,” I said, not believing him.

“I could call the police,” he said, moving restlessly.

That was a joke. Peppi going to the police was like a snake dropping in to see a mongoose.

“You could do that,” I said, lighting a cigarette. “They might be glad to see you.”

“If you found Miss Shumway,” he said, “what would you do with her? She’s wanted by the police.”

“I’ll look after that when you turn her over,” I said, “and look, Peppi, I’m getting impatient.”

Then the door opened and Lydia Brandt walked in.

It was a shock, but I managed to smile at her. It looked like the breaks were not in my favour in this game.

“There you are, Peacherine,” I said, “we were just talking about you.”

I was almost sorry to see she had a small black bruise each side of her jaw where I had tried to stop her talking in the cab. There was also a graze on her chin where I had hit her. And, what was worse, she looked as mad as a hornet in a paper bag.

Peppi was as startled as I was. He took her arm and stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She pushed him aside and came over to me. If there’s one thing that makes me nervous it’s a dame in a temper. You never know what they’re going to do. They might stab you with a hat pin or scratch your eyes out. They might try and make you bald. They might kick you. You just don’t know which way it’s coming.

I held up my hand, “Now, don’t bust your brassiere,” I said, hastily. “Remember your upbringing and act like a lady.”

She caught me a sizzler on the shin with her pointed shoe. “You heel!” she said, “I’ll kill you for what you did to me!” and back went her leg to post me another bone-crusher.

I caught her foot as it shot towards me and lifted it sharply. She sat down with a thud and I guess the jar cooled her fever. Anyway, she just sat there, her eyes snapping and her mouth twisted with pain.

As I got to my feet, someone grabbed me by my shoulder spun me round and I ran into a punch that sent me crashing into the table. I tried to get my balance, but couldn’t quite make it. The table and I went over on the floor.

I touched my chin with a grimace and looked at the guy who had hit me. He was one hundred per cent. muscle and brawn, with a face moulded on Epstein’s lines and a pair of shoulders as wide as a barn door.

“It’s a funny thing,” I said, “but no one seems to like me.”

Lydia, seeing me close, lashed out again and caught me on the knee. I hurriedly got to my feet. “Will you quit kicking me around?” I said, stepping away from her.

The guy who had hit me was bearing down on me again, but Peppi stopped him. “Wait,” he said, “don’t hit him again. I want to talk to him.”

He then turned and helped Lydia to her feet. She looked as if she were going to make another rush at me, but he jerked her round, “Cut it out!” he said. “What happened?”

It came out like a bursting dam. She told how I had got the gun, taken her into my apartment and knocked her cold; how I had taped her up and taken her to the top floor of an empty warehouse by the river and left her there, and how some bum had found her and released her.

All the time she was talking she was glaring at me, and when she was through she made a sudden dive in my direction, but Peppi grabbed her arm and shoved her back. “Get out,” he said, in his little hissing voice, “you’re not hurt and you’ve had a lucky break. I want to talk to this guy. Maybe I’ll let you at him later.”

She gave a look that’d stop a runaway horse and then she went out, leaving me alone with Peppi and the muscle man.

“Okay, Lew,” Peppi said, “just watch him. If he acts dumb, you can have him.”

I sat down again. “Go on,” I said bitterly, “don’t mind me. Put me up for auction.”

Peppi came over and helped himself to a cigar from a box on the table. “You don’t seem to be so clever after all,” he said.

“Can I help making mistakes?” I said, shrugging. “I’m just good at ’em, that’s all.”

“Well, this makes a big difference,” he went on, blowing a cloud of smoke into my face,

“we can talk now.” He began wandering about the room. “I’ve got this Shumway girl. You were right.”

I looked at him in disgust “You always were a liar,” I said, “you got the other too?”

Peppi smiled, “Arym, do you mean?”

“Is that her name?”

“Why not? She’s just the opposite to Myra. I think its a good name, don’t you?”

“Myra backwards?”

“Yeah, Myra backwards in every way. Your girl’s a good girl.”

“Where do you get that my girl stuff?” I asked, trying to look bewildered.

“I know,” Peppi smiled, “otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered. Now there’s no chance of you getting away until I say so, you may be interested in some details. Then we can talk business.”

“Go ahead,” I said airily, “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

For all that, I was interested. There was a lot to clear up and if Peppi wanted to talk I wouldn’t stop him.

“Ansell was right. There were two girls,” Peppi said, flicking ash into the empty fireplace.

“It wanted believing, but it didn’t take me long to see how it all added up.”

“I bet it didn’t,” I said bitterly, “you were always a smart guy. Didn’t some columnist say you had more brains in your little finger than you had in your head?”

“Shall I hit him?” Lew asked casually, puffing a short rubber club from his hip pocket. Peppi shook his head, “Not yet,” he said, “there’s time for that.” He turned back to me,

“You remember this guy Kelly?”

“Sure,” I said, “you’d never heard of him when I was here the other day.”

Peppi smiled, “I wasn’t ready to talk then,” he explained. “Kelly told me about the Shumway girl. She interested me. She gypped Kelly and he wanted me to get the 25 grand out of her. I didn’t help him. It wasn’t my line, but I wanted to see the girl I quite liked her.” Peppi flicked more ash, “She’s quite a dish. So, I got rid of Kelly and kept her here for a while. Her father got in the way, too. But, I gave him a little money and got rid of him. Then she told me about you, and what happened in Mexico.” He moved over to the window, glanced out and then wandered back to the middle of the room. “I didn’t believe it at first, but she convinced me. She’s a restless dame.” He shook his head. “I don’t know where she gets to. Now, there’s this trouble about your pal Ansell. She shouldn’t have rubbed him out, but, in a way, it suits me.”

“Let’s have it,” I said, interested, “I feel this is where I get dragged in.”

Peppi nodded, “I’d fixed a substitute Arym for your girl because she said she could persuade you to work for Andasca. I wanted that. It was easy after you told me you were taking Myra to Manetta’s. All I had to do was to send Lew along and snatch Myra while Arym took her place.” He shrugged “Then she loses her head when this Ansell guy gets nosey and kills him. Well, it’s still all right with me. If you don’t play along, I’ll turn Myra over to the cops.”

“Don’t talk in riddles,” I said, “what do you mean?”

“I’ve got a job for you. Now, listen, Maddox wants you back.”

“Maddox? Did he say so?”

“Sure, he wants you back. And I want you to go back because Maddox has a set of photos I want. You see, I’m being frank with you.” He smiled, and when Peppi smiled it was the most unbeautiful thing in the world. “I want you to get those photos. It shouldn’t be hard. Andasca got tight some months ago and got himself in a jam. Some guy photographed him. He was talking to me. I didn’t want him to talk to me, but he was tight. If those pictures get in the press Andasca’s finished. If anyone knows I’m behind him he might just as well throw in his hand. Maddox’s going to print those photos the day before the election. You’ve got to get ’em before then, or I’ll turn Myra over to the cops.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. It was a straightforward proposition.

“I want more than that,” I said, “I want both the girls. If I’m to get Myra out of a jam, the other one’s got to be given to the cops.”

Peppi shrugged, “That’s okay with me,” he said. “She’s no use now. All I want is the photos. You can have ’em both.”

“That’s on,” I said, standing up, “I’ll see Maddox right away.”

Peppi stubbed out his cigar, “You’ve got three days before the election,” he said, tapping the calendar. “It’s no use talking to Maddox. I’ve offered him fifty grand for those photos. He ain’t selling. You’ve got to find where he keeps them and lift ’em, do you get it?”

I could see myself stealing anything from Maddox. He’d have all the law in the country after my hide quicker than a flea’s hop.

“That’s okay by me,” I said. “I owe him something and this’ll about even things up.”

Peppi jerked his head to Lew. “Okay,” he said, “don’t try and be smart. Crossing me won’t get you any place.”

I smiled at him, “You wouldn’t let me have a word with Myra?”

He shook his head.

It was no good arguing with him. So I walked out into the hall where the butler opened the front door.

“So long,” I said, “be careful of that brunette. She ain’t always kind.”

He said something under his breath, but I didn’t catch it. Then he closed the door sharply behind me.

Within fifteen minutes I was in Maddoxs office.

Now Maddox wasn’t the kind of guy you invited to your home. He looked the kind of guy who was put in a home. Maybe his blood pressure bothered him. I don’t know, but he looked like he had swallowed a volcano and was uncertain of future events.

With him was his personal secretary, who most of the boys knew as ‘Whalebone Harriet.’ That dame was so straight laced her figure suffered from arrested development. But in spite of this she was smart and she’d always been a good friend of mine.

Right now, she was trying to calm Maddox down while I stood by the door waiting to see how safe it was to advance further.

Maddox left off scrumpling up his blotting pad and breaking his pens and pencils, so I guessed that the first spasm was over. I advanced cautiously across the wide expanse of carpet until I was within six feet of his desk. “Hello there, Mr. Maddox,” I said, smiling.

Maddox half rose from his chair, but Harriet pushed him back firmly, so he had to be satisfied with a lot of lip twisting stuff.

“So you’ve come back, you incompetent, useless, pin-headed baboon,” he exploded, with a roar that rattled the windows. “Call yourself a newspaper man? Call yourself a special correspondent? Call yourself a…!”

“Mr. Maddox, please,” Harriet broke in, “you promised you’d behave! You can’t expect Mr. Millan to help you if you begin by calling him names.”

“Help me?” Maddox repeated, wrenching at his collar, “do you honestly think this brainless ink-slinger can help me? He’s cost the paper twenty-five thousand dollars! Twenty-five thousand dollars!! And look at him! It means nothing to him!”

“That wasn’t my fault,” I said, edging back a couple of feet. “You ask Juden. He’ll tell you what happened. You were double-crossed, Mr. Maddox. You’ve got Shumway to blame for that.”

Maddox began to swell, “I was double-crossed all right,” he said, leaning over his desk, while Harriet hung on to his coat, “you fell down on the job, you hollow-headed monkey! I know all about it… if you think I believe that stuff you told Summers you’re crazier than I thought. Floating women! Talking dogs!! Man into sausage!!! Bah!”

“Never mind about that,” I said, “I want to talk to you about Andasca.”

“Andasca?” He stopped tying his face in knots and stared at me. “What do you mean? What do you know about Andasca?”

“I know what you’ve got on him” I said, cautiously, “and I know Kruger wants you to lay off.”

He sat down abruptly, “How do you know?”

“Kruger told me. Now listen, Mr. Maddox, forget the twenty-five grand. Alter all this paper can afford to lose twenty-five grand once in a while…”

I thought that would start him all over again, but Harriet anchored him to his chair.

“Kruger’s framed Shumway’s daughter with murder. Unless he gets those photos he’s going to give her to the cops. He wants me to get those prints from you and in return he’ll turn the girl loose,” I went on. “He’s got enough on the girl to send her to the chair.”

Maddox drew in a long, deep breath. “So you want those photos, do you?” he repeated, struggling to get the words out. “You want to give them to Kruger, do you? Well, you’re not having them! I don’t care if he’s got enough to send every man, woman and child in this country to the chair! Do you understand that?”

I didn’t expect anything else. “Now, look, Mr. Maddox,” I said, “can I give you the whole story? Will you listen?”

“Will I listen?” he snarled, “why do you think I sent for you? Do you think I wanted to look on your cretinish face?”

“Okay,” I said, drawing up a chair, “it’ll take a little time, but at least you’ll know where you are.”

“At least I’ll know where I am,” he repeated, “and by the time you’ve finished, you’ll know where you are!”

I didn’t let him rattle me, but went straight into the story and told him everything from the meeting with Myra to the meeting with Kruger.

He sat drumming on the desk, looking as if be could eat me, while Harriet took the story down. When I was through, he just sat looking at me. There was a long painful silence. Even Harriet looked doubtful.

“What a dream!” he exploded at last. “That settles it. Young man, you’re a menace to the citizens of this country. Do you know what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to have you sent to a nut house. If I spend my last dime, I’ll have you put away before the end of the week.”

I got hastily to my feet. “Hey,” I said, “you can’t do a thing like that!”

“I can’t, huh?” Maddox snarled. “Well, you wait and see. This time next week you’ll be in a strait jacket!”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Harriet called.

Murphy, the doorman, walked in. I’ve never seen a guy look so altered. His face was pale and lined and he carried himself as if he’d got a ton weight on his back.

“What do you want?” Maddox snapped, “get out, I’m busy.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maddox, sir,” Murphy said in a low voice, “but, I’m leaving. I’ve just come to say good-bye.”

“What do you mean… you’re leaving? You’ve been with me twenty years,” Maddox said, startled.

“I know that, sir,” Murphy replied, shaking his bead sadly, “it’ll be a blow to the wife when she hears about it, but I’ve got to go. I’m conscientious, sir, and I don’t think I’m fit any more for the job.”

Maddox got to his feet. “What are you drivelling about?” he roared. “What is this? I warn you, Murphy, if this is a gag, I’ll make you sorry. I won’t have people wasting my time. Now, go downstairs and look after the doors. If you’ve been drinking, sleep it off. You’re an old trusted servant and I’ll overlook this, if you’ll get out.”

Murphy approached him. “It’s not that, sir,” he said mournfully, “my brain’s given way.” Maddox took a hasty step back, “Your brain?” he repeated uneasily.

Murphy nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, “it was all right this morning, but it’s gone now. I’ve got to go. I might do something I’d be sorry for.”

“How do you know your brain’s given way?” Maddox asked, behind his desk by now.

“I’m hearing things, sir,” Murphy said. “Voices in my head.”

Maddox appealed to Harriet. “Do people hear voices in their heads when their brains give way?”

Harriet lifted her square shoulders. “It’s not an encouraging sign, Mr. Maddox,” she said softly.

Maddox wiped his face with his handkerchief. “I suppose not,” he said. “But what kind of voices?”

Murphy shivered. “There’s a big dog downstairs,” he said. “I thought he spoke to me. That’s why I say I’m heating voices.’

“Spoke to you… a dog? What did he say?” Maddox demanded.

“He wanted to know if I changed socks every day.”

I jumped to my feet, “What?” I shouted, “a dog?”

Murphy shrank back, “Yes, Mr. Millan, a big dog I shouldn’t ought to bother you with this…”

“Where is he?” I shouted. “It’s Whisky” I turned on Maddox. “Now, I’ll show you something. Get that dog up here! Where did you leave him?”

“I don’t want him up here,” Murphy wailed. “I couldn’t bear to have him up here.”

I rushed to the door and jerked it open. Half the office staff, who had been listening at the keyhole, fell into the room, but I didn’t stop. I trod over them, shoving the others out of the way and rushed for the elevator.

Downstairs, I found a group of people standing round the door, but there was no sign of Whisky.

“Anyone seen a dog around here?” I demanded.

“Sure,” a big guy said, pushing his way towards me, “a big wolfhound. He came in here a few minutes ago and then Murphy suddenly seemed to go crazy and ran for the elevator. The dog went off like he was offended.”

“Which way did he go?”

“To the right. What’s it all about?”

I didn’t wait, but bolted out into the street.

There was no sign of Whisky anywhere. That didn’t worry me a great deal. There was only one place where he’d go and that would be home.

I signalled a passing taxi and gave him my address. “Keep near the sidewalk,” I said, “I’m looking for a pal of mine.”

The driver, a wizen little punk with suspicious rat-like eyes, touched his cap. “I’m ready to stop when you are,” he said, and drove along the street, hugging the curb.

I was nearly home, when I spotted Whisky trotting along. He looked in better shape. Someone must have cleaned him up, but he still had a nasty wound on his head.

“Stop!” I bawled to the taxi driver and bundled out of the cab. “Whisky, old boy!” I called, running towards him, “Gee! Whisky, it’s nice to see you.”

Whisky turned quickly, “Well,” he said, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Come back in the cab, Whisky,” I said, patting him gently. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.” We crowded back into the cab. “Just drive around, will you?” I said to the driver. “I’ve got a lot to say to my dog.”

The driver eyed Whisky. “He’s a nice dog, ain’t he?” he said, “you ain’t been beating that dog, have you, mister?”

“Now listen,” I said, pushing Whisky in a corner so I had room to sit down, “I just want to talk to my dog. I don’t want to get tied up in a conversation with you. I haven’t got the time for it.”

“I don’t like guys who beat dogs,” the taxi driver said, turning in his seat. “I got plenty tough with the last guy I saw beating his dog.”

“Yeah?” Whisky said, pushing his face into the taxi driver’s, “then he must have been a midget.”

“Well, he was, but that don’t change the idea of the thing,” returned the driver and started up his engine.

Whisky and I settled back and we regarded each other affectionately. “Well, pal,” I said, “you’ve certainly had a bad time. What did they do to you?”

Before he could reply, we were both thrown in a heap on the floor as the driver trod on his brakes.

“What’s the idea?” I said, angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The driver turned in his seat. His face was the colour of a fish’s underbelly. “Hey!” he said in a trembling voice, “didn’t that dog speak?”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “Get on with your driving, can’t you?”

“Now, wait a minute,” the rat-like eyes glared at me. “I’ve got to get this straight. Did that dog speak to me?”

“Well, what if he did? That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But dogs don’t talk. They bark, see?”

“Oh, I get it. Well, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s just that kind of a dog.”

“Well, if that’s all it is,” the driver said, relieved, and be began driving again.

“I thought you’d lost your voice,” I said to Whisky.

“So I did,” he growled, “and damned inconvenient it was too. I hope I never go back to barking again; you just don’t get anywhere like that. But, we’re wasting time, I know where Myra is.”

“So do I,” I said gloomily, “with Peppi.”

Whisky shook his head. “She’s in a top front room in Waxey’s dive,” he said.

I stared at him. “She’s with Peppi,” I said, “let me get you up to date,” and I told him about Ansell and Peppi and the whole set-up.

He sat looking at me with alert eyes and when I’d finished, he said, “Don’t bother about those photos. I tell you she’s at Waxey’s dive. We can get her out of there and then turn Peppi over to the cops. Tell the driver to turn around.”

“You’re sure?” I said, half convinced. “What has Waxey to do with Peppi?”

“Will you stop yapping,” Whisky said fiercely, “and tell the driver.”

“Okay,” I said, and leaning forward I said, “take us to Mulberry Park, will you?”

“Sure,” the driver said, “and listen, I’ve been thinking. I don’t believe that dog talked, see? And nothing you say’ll convince me,” and he swung the cab off the main street.

Chapter SIXTEEN

WHILE we were driving to Mulberry Park, Whisky explained what had been happening to him. He had seen Myra kidnapped when she left our apartment and he had followed the car. He had seen her taken to Good-time Waxey’s dive and he went after her.

But Waxey and Lew had been too much for him. He only managed to get away by the skin of his teeth and not before Lew bad nearly brained him with his rubber club.

I listened grimly to all this. “I’ll settle that heel,” I said. “He’s nor going to knock you around and get away with it.”

“Better be careful,” Whisky said mournfully, “he’s a mighty big guy.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said. “If I get a chance to slug him when he’s not looking, I’ll take the chance.”

As the cab slowed down, Whisky said, “Well, here we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, getting out and paying the driver. He didn’t look at me when he took the money, but he eyed Whisky suspiciously, then he drove away fast. “I don’t think that guy liked us,” I said. “Now, listen. We’ll get nowhere if they see you, Whisky. You watch the building. If I don’t come out in half an hour, you’d better get the cops.”

“No good doing that, unless the two girls are there,” Whisky said. “If the cops get Myra and not the other one what sort of jam will we be in?”

“You’ve got something there,” I said, “but, what if something happens to me? What’ll you do?”

“I’ll send you a wreath,” Whisky returned. “What else can I do?”

“Never mind about the wreath,” I returned sharply. “You better come in. after me if I’m longer than a half an hour.”

“I’ll think about it,” Whisky returned. “I’m not worked up about the idea.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “You’re sure she’s in the place?”

“She’s upstairs in the room facing the street. I saw her look Out of the window.”

“Swell. It just means getting up there.”

“That’s right. If anyone tries to stop you, just don’t take no for an answer.”

I didn’t feel I was getting all the encouragement I needed, but apparently Whisky wasn’t an encouraging kind of dog.

I left him at the corner of the square and wandered towards Waxey’s dive. The place seemed deserted and when I got inside I found a thin weedy youth half asleep over the counter.

“Where’s Waxey?” I asked.

“Out,” the youth yawned and put his head on his arms again.

I glanced round the dim room. Over to the right was a door which I guessed led upstairs.

“I’ll wait,” I said, sitting on an upturned box near the door.

The youth didn’t say anything. He was nearly asleep. I sat there watching him and after a minute or so he began to snore.

I shifted my box closer to the door, but he didn’t look up. I gave him a few seconds just to be on the safe side and then reached the door. It opened silently and, leaving the youth spread over the counter. I peered into the gloom of a passage that led to a flight of stairs.

I’d have felt a lot more confident if I had a gun with me. All the same, if Myra was up there, I was going to get her out. I went up the stairs quickly.

The first room I entered was obviously Waxey’s bedroom. It was empty except for a rough cot and a lot of dirt. Waxey certainly lived the hard way.

The next door was locked. I hadn’t time for any fancy stuff, I drew back and caught the door a peach of a kick just below the lock. The door flew open and I sprawled in the room on my hands and knees.

Myra twisted over on the bed so that she could see who it was. I sat up and grinned at her.

“So you’ve come at last,” she said, trying to sit up. I could see that her wrists and ankles were bound. “Don’t sit there like a big drip. Hitch up your truss and get me out of here.”

“Kid,” I said, getting to my feet. “It’s grand to hear your voice again.”

“Never mind that stuff,” Myra snapped, bouncing up and down on the bed. “Get me undone. We can have our little cry together later on.”

“I’m right with you,” I said, going over to her. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“Don’t talk so much,” Myra returned. “They haven’t had time, but they’ve promised all kinds of things.”

I examined the cords that bound her. Whoever tied her had made a swell job of it. But when I found my knife, it didn’t take long to free her.

“There you are, sugar,” I said, sitting beside her. “How does it feel?”

“Lousy,” Myra said moving her legs and wincing. “I’ve got a cramp.”

“I’ll fix that,” I said, pushing back my cuffs. “I’ll get some life in them.”

“Hands off!” Myra said sharply. “I like to do my own massaging.”

“That’s a pity,” I returned. “I was looking forward to that.”

While she began restoring her circulation, I glanced round the room. It was empty except for the bed and a table. On the table stood an odd looking contraption. There were two large springs, a handcuff on a long chain and one or two cogwheels. They were all joined up together and they intrigued me.

“Someone’s going to pay for this,” Myra said angrily. “Why should they want to kidnap me?”

“I’ll tell you in a second,” I said, picking up the handcuff, “what’s this thing?”

Myra gave a little scream, “Don’t touch it!” she cried.

“Why not… is it a man-trap?”

There was a sudden sharp click. The springs moved forward, the cogwheels spun and I found the handcuff on my wrist.

“You big sap!” Myra said furiously.

“Why, it is a man-trap!” I said, admiring the thing. “That’s smart. There might be a fortune in it.”

Myra swung her legs off the bed and hobbled over to me. “Didn’t I tell you not to touch it?”

I took hold of the handcuff and jerked at it. “I’ll get it off,” I said calmly. “I was glad to see it work.”

“You won’t get it off,” Myra said, nearly crying. “Oh, I could brain you!”

And she was right. The handcuff had me tight round the wrist and nothing I could do would shift it. The chain to which it was fastened only allowed me a few feet from the wall.

“Hey!” I said in alarm, “get this off, will you?”

“But I can’t,” Myra wailed. “You stupid dope! What am I going to do now?”

I wrestled with the thing silently. After a while, I gave up. “Don’t let’s get into a panic,” I said. “If this chain thinks it can hold me… why it’s crazy!” I put my feet against the wall and holding the chain in both bands, I threw my weight backwards. It ought to have wrenched the staple that held the chain out of the wall. But it didn’t. But it did nearly give me a hemorrhage. I sat on the floor and mopped my brow.

“You’re right, sugar,” I said in disgust. “I’m a sap and a dope!”

“They’ll kill you if they find you here,” Myra said anxiously. “Don’t talk that way,” I said hastily. “Someone might hear you and get ideas. Now listen, you’re in a jam and I’m in a jam, but it’s a lot worse for you than for me.”

“What do you mean?”

So I told her in a few words about Doc Ansell and the cops and how they were looking for her.

“So you see,” I said, “you’ve got to hide some place. Don’t wait for me. Get going. Take Whisky with you and tell him where you’re going. He’ll tell me later.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” she said, “I’ll get a file or something and break that chain.”

“You’re wasting time. Find me a rat to talk to and I’ll pretend I’m in jail. Go on. They won’t do anything to me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said, and then she gave a sudden sharp cry.

“What’s the matter? Why are you looking like that?” I asked as her expression changed. She put out her hands towards me and I saw she was shivering.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” I asked in alarm. “Here, hold up, kid,” and I tried to reach her.

“Something’s happening to me,” she said wildly.

The look in her eyes scared me and then I saw something that made me start back. You won’t believe this. I didn’t believe It myself. It was like something had gone wrong with my eyes.

Myra was becoming blurred. Her figure was smudgy, like a blurred photograph and even her features seemed to be dissolving.

“What’s happening to you?” I exclaimed, feeling my heart pounding.

She didn’t say anything, but just stood swaying before me. I could see something filmy in front of her. Something that moved. Then a shadowy figure stepped from her.

You’ve seen those trick films where people become transparent? Well, that’s exactly how this figure looked. It sent my blood pressure up and gave me the scare of my life.

As I watched, the figure became more distinct and then there she was—Myra the second, the spitting image of Myra except she was dressed only in white satin panties and brassiere.

I knew it must be Arym. But, even seeing the two together, it didn’t make it possible.

Myra backed away. She was as startled as I. Then she clutched at her frock and gasped.

“You—you’ve got on my underwear!” she said.

Arym admired her figure. “Well, I had to have something,” she returned airily. “After all we aren’t alone.” She looked at me archly. “Aren’t you staring a little too much?” she asked.

I hastily averted my eyes. “You’re not a sight for anyone to pass up,” I said feebly.

“But… you’re me!” Myra exclaimed, looking stunned. “Of course, I am,” Arym said. “At least, we share the same body.”

Myra put her hands to her face. “This is awful,” she said, “what am I going to do?”

“It’s all right once you get used to it,” Arym returned with a giggle. “Every one has two sides to their natures.”

“I know,” I put in, “but they don’t have two bodies. This is driving me batty.”

“Oh, that’s Quintl,” Arym went on, “he had a swell sense of humour. In a way, it’s been a good thing. I’ve got tired of sharing a body with someone else It’s nice to have one of my own.”

Myra came over and clutched at me. I put my arm around her. “Take it easy,” I said. “We’ll wake up in a minute and find this is just another nightmare.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Arym said. “Why don’t you get wise? I’m just part of you and I’ve decided to leave you.”

Myra looked at her fixedly. “You’re bad,” she said quietly. “I can see you’re bad.”

“What of it?” Arym said, shrugging. “We can’t all be good, besides no one would be interesting if they didn’t have a little bad in them. Think how prissy you’re going to be now that I’ve left you.”

“So you’re the one who’s been making a mess of my life,” Myra said, stepping away from me and confronting Arym.

“It’s been mighty hard work. I tell you, it’s quite a relief to get away from you for a while.”

“You’ll never get back again,” Myra said. “So don’t you think you will.”

“If I want to, I shall,” Arym returned, wandering over to the bed and sitting down. “You can’t get along without me.”

“Yes, I can… and I’m going to.”

“How do you think you’ll live?” Arym scoffed. “I made all your money by stealing it. Remember Joe Krum? What a time I bad to get you to break the ice!”

Myra flushed scarlet. “Oh, I wish I’d never listened to you.”

“You’ve got quite a strong character really,” Arym admitted reluctantly.

“You won’t need to worry about my character now,” Myra said grimly. “I’ve got you out of my system, and this time I’m keeping you out.”

Arym shrugged, “I don’t want to come back,” she said. “You don’t have to get so worked up. I don’t think it would be safe any more. In fact, I’m certain it wouldn’t be,” and she laughed.

Myra stared at her. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“If it wasn’t for that silly little man, I suppose I wouldn’t have left you for good. I think I was getting the upper hand of you although it was a tough struggle. But be had to interfere and so I had to kill him. You see Peppi says they’ll put me in the chair if they catch me. He’s going to hide me until they find you. They think you killed him, so when they’ve dealt with you, I’ll be able to start all over again.”

Myra suddenly saw what a jam she was in and looked desperately at me.

“If I could only get this handcuff off,” I said, jerking furiously at the chain, “I’d know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Arym said, curling up her long bare legs under her. “This is the proverbial struggle between good and bad. I’ve tried to get along with Myra, but it’s been too uphill. Why should a girl with such a nice body and looks lead such a dreary life as she makes me lead? I’m sick of it. Since she met you, she hasn’t stolen a thing. How does she expect us to live? Why, had to leave her to get alter that reward. She wouldn’t have bothered about it. Now, I’ve salted it away where no one can find it,” and her eyes lit up at the thought. She put her arms behind her and leaned back. I don’t want to stress the point, but that dame would certainly have made Petty a swell model. “Are you still going to marry me like you said, when all this is over?” she went on looking at me with an arch smile.

“I’ll have you understand he loves me, you horrid little hooker!” Myra broke in before I could say anything.

“That’s what you think,” Arym said, waving her away. “But he’s actually proposed to me. Haven’t you, darling?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“That settles it,” Myra said grimly. “I won’t let you get your claws into him. You’ve talked too much already. I’m going to take you to the police. They can choose between us.”

Arym looked alarmed, “Oh no, you’re not,” she said, sliding off the bed. “That wouldn’t do at all,” and she made for the door.

“Don’t let her get away,” I shouted, trying to reach her.

Myra made a dash towards her, but Arym was too quick. As she opened the door, Lew came bounding in.

Then things happened. I kicked over the table in front of Lew. Aryrn disappeared out of the room, slamming the door behind her and Myra suddenly swooped up to the ceiling.

As the table went over, the man-trap apparatus crashed on the floor. The fall set the mechanism working; there was a whirr of wheels and the handcuff clicked open. I just managed to get it off my wrist as Lew came at me.

I stopped a punch on the side of my head that made my teeth rattle, but I managed to slow him down with a counter to his belly.

He stepped back and Myra grabbed his hair. She twined her fingers almost lovingly in his locks and pulled.

I thought he was going out of his mind. He looked right and left and then behind him. He couldn’t see anything because Myra was above him. While he was occupied, I stepped in and hit him pretty well where I liked. I remembered Whisky, so I let him have it. He tried to back away, but Myra, exerting all her strength clung to him like a leech. Then he looked up and saw her. He could only gape in horror and I had no difficulty in hanging a punch on his jaw that came up from my ankles.

He gave a tired little smile and folded up on the floor.

“Very nice work,” I said, blowing on my knuckles. “And now let’s get out of this fast.”

I reached up to take Myra’s hand and I pulled her gently to the floor. She was as light as a thistle down and I had difficulty in keeping her by my side.

“She’s gotten away,” she said desperately, holding on to me, her feet a few inches off the floor.

“Never mind that,” I said, “at least, I’ve got you and that’s something.” As I moved to the door I heard the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“The window,” Myra said. “Quick!”

I let her go and dashed to the window. As soon as I released her, she shot up in the air and banged against the ceiling.

“Oath!” she exclaimed from up there. “That hurt!”

I didn’t pay any attention. I was leaning out and looking down into the street. It was a long drop and we’d only break our necks if we went that way.

“It’s too high!” I said, coming away from the window. “What the hell are we going to do now?”

Myra floated down and drifted out of the window. She hung suspended just outside. It was an unnerving sight to see her standing calmly on nothing thirty feet or so above ground.

Already a number of people had stopped and were staring up at her. Several were clutching each other and one fat woman began running madly down the street, screaming like a train whistle.

“Don’t stand there,” she said impatiently. “Give me your hand. I won’t let you fall.”

“What? You want me…” Then I heard the door crash open behind me and Myra grabbed me.

I don’t mind admitting that I shut my eyes as I stepped into space. But she had no difficulty in keeping me from falling. I felt a rushing sensation and I opened my eyes timidly.

We had flashed over some buildings, leaving Waxey’s dive far behind.

“Do you like it?” Myra asked, holding my hand firmly and smiling at me.

“Only because I trust you,” I said, taking a firmer grip on her. “Otherwise, I’d just go crazy at the thought.”

We swooped over a crowded street. I noticed a loiterer below. He glanced up casually, stiffened and then hid his face in his hands. I guess that guy would go off liquor for the rest of his days.

“Pick a quiet spot and let’s get down,” I said. “We’ll start a riot in a minute.”

We circled some buildings, spotted a deserted alley and floated gently to the ground. As we recovered our balance, we noticed an old man standing in a doorway staring at us with fixed concentration.

“Do you do that often?” he quavered, plucking nervously at his beard.

“It only happens when we’re a bit light-headed,” I returned, dusting myself down. “Think nothing of it.”

“I wish I could,” the old man said, wistfully. “It’ll haunt me for the rest of my days.”

“That won’t be long,” I said, kindly, “so it won’t be hard to bear.”

“Don’t tease him,” Myra said. “He looks as if he’s been through rather a strain.”

“I have, lady,” the old man said eagerly. “The trouble is no one will believe me,” and he went into his house and shut the door.

“Phew!” I said. “We’re lucky to get out of that.”

Myra suddenly faced me. “Did you really propose to that blonde?” she said, looking at me accusingly.

“But, darling,” I said hastily, “I thought it was you. There was a look in her eyes and…”

“You mean, I haven’t encouraged you?” Myra said seriously. “I suppose I haven’t,” and she reached up and kissed me.

“The proposal still stands,” I said, a few minutes later. “Will you consider it?”

“I will,” she said. “And now I want some undies. Will you take me somewhere where I can buy them?”

“We’ve got to be quick,” I said. “If the cops…”

“I can’t go around like this,” Myra said firmly. “We’ve just got to take a chance.”

At the end of the alley, I spotted a taxi and I waved. Just as we go in, Whisky came bounding up. He scrambled in as we drove off.

Chapter SEVENTENN

“WHERE to, boss?” the driver asked, as soon as we had settled down.

“Keep driving,” I returned, shoving Whisky’s foot out of my chest. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had time to think.”

Myra and Whisky were making a great fuss over each other, and I had to tell Whisky that when I wanted his tongue over my face I’d let him know.

“It’s certainly nice to see you again,” Whisky said, panting with excitement. “I’d given you both up for lost.”

“We’d given ourselves up for lost,” I said, taking Myra’s hand. “It’s a good thing you learned to float, sugar.”

“You know, I just can’t help it,” Myra said apologetically. “But I must get some undies. I just haven’t any confidence without them.”

“What have you done with them?” Whisky asked, pricking up his ears.

“Don’t tell him,” I pleaded. “It’ll take too long. Never mind about your undies. The cops are looking for you. They’ve only to hear I’ve been seen with a blonde and a dog and they’ll come after us like bats out of hell.”

“Very well,” Myra said, settling back. “But you’ve no idea how it preys on my mind.”

“The point to concentrate on is where do we go from here?” I said.

“That, I think, is for you to decide,” Myra said, slipping her hand into mine. “I’ll go where you say.”

“I’ve got to put you in some place where the cops won’t find you. Then I’ve got to get hold of Arym.”

“Who’s Arym?” Myra asked, puzzled.

“Your other self, my pet,” I said lightly. “That’s what she calls herself. If I get her, then you’ll be in the clear.”

“But how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even going to think about it. I must first find a hide-out for you.” Then I remembered Harriet. “I know,” I said, and leaning forward I told the driver to stop at the first public telephone.

“This do you?” he asked, cutting across the traffic and drawing up outside a drug store.

“Yeah,” I said, then to Myra, “wait here, I’ve got to ‘phone.”

I found there was only one telephone booth when I got into the drug store and some dame was using it.

I went over to the soda-jerker behind the counter. “Is that lady going to be long?” I asked.

“I’ve got a taxi outside and I’m in a hurry.”

He shook his head. “She’s about through,” he said. “Anyway, I figure it that way. She’s been in there since noon and she must have used up most of the air in that little booth by now.

I thanked him. He had a pretty good grip on his business because the woman suddenly hung up and stepped out of the booth. She nodded to the soda-jerker and went out into the Street.

“What they find to talk about,” he began, leaning on the counter, but I didn’t wait to hear any more. I shut myself in with the telephone and put a call through to the Recorder.

Harriet was tied up with Mr. Maddox, I was told.

“Well, can’t you send someone in to cut her loose?” I demanded. “This is important.”

“How important would you say?” the switchboard girl asked. She didn’t sound impressed.

“Her apartment’s on fire and her old man’s trapped up on the roof,” I lied. “If that’s important to you, I guess you might do something about it.”

“I can’t interrupt Mr. Maddox for that,” she replied. “How long has he been upon the roof?”

I would have liked to have been right behind that baby. I’d have surprised her.

“Look,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how long he’s been up there. The point is the place is on fire and he gets dizzy when he’s high up. He wants to see his daughter before anything happens to him.”

“Well, I’ll tell her when she’s through with Mr. Maddox,” the girl replied curtly and rang off.

Maybe she didn’t believe me.

I had to leave the booth to get some change and when I got back some guy was entering the booth.

“Look, mister,” I pleaded. “I’ve got a priority. Would you mind giving way to me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a priority too,” he said. “My wife’s apartment’s on fire…”

“I know and she’s up on the roof,” I skid, in disgust.

He looked at me sharply. “I wonder how you knew that,” he returned, then he suddenly shrugged. “Well, hell I’ll wait. There’s plenty for her to look at up there.”

I thanked him and got back to the Recorder. “If you don’t put me through to Miss Halliday,” I said when I got the operator, “I’ll fix you good some dark night.”

“Let’s make a date,” she replied promptly. “The trouble is the nights are never dark enough these days.”

“How can they be?” I said, wanting to strangle her. “Well, you know what I mean. How dark does it have to be?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll just choose the first dark night that comes along,” I said, snarling.

“I can’t do business on those lines,” she replied, giggling. “I like something definite. How about to-night? To-morrow there’s a new moon and it’ll be too light for fixing.”

Something jogged my memory. “New moon?” I repeated. “Did you say there’ll be a new moon to-morrow?”

“Sure, I have to watch little things like that. They make an awful difference in a girl’s life.”

“Never mind about your life,” I said quickly. “What’s the date?”

“July 31,” she replied. “Have you been shipwrecked or something?”

I nearly dropped the receiver. The end of the month. I remembered what Doc Ansell had said. Myra would lose her influence at the end of the month when the moon changed. I looked hurriedly at the clock on the wall. It was just five-fifteen. I had only seven hours to get everything fixed up.

“Hello… hello… hello?” the girl said. “Are you still there?”

“I think so,” I said cautiously. “Will you see how Miss Halliday’s getting on?”

“How about that date?”

“Sure, make it to-night. I’ll pick you up.”

“But how shall I know you?”

“Who, me? You’ll know me all right. I’ll be wearing a Zoot suit and I carry my left leg over my right shoulder. No one’s mistaken me yet.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Can’t you do anything about that left leg?” she asked at last.

“I can leave it at home.”

“Couldn’t you be a little rough with it for to-night?” she asked hopefully. “I’d stand the Zoot suit but the leg gets me down.”

“That’s the idea,” I pointed out.

She thought about this for a moment. “It’s a date,” she said briskly. “Miss Halliday’s free now. I’m putting you thr—r—r—ough.”

Harriet was all brains. I didn’t have to go into details. She got what I wanted almost before I had started. She told me where her apartment was and how to get in and she promised to be back early. I thanked her and rang off. I felt I’d lost ten pounds by the time I got out of the booth. I collided with the guy waiting to put through his call. He apologized.

“Excuse me, pal,” he said. “Can you remember what I wanted to telephone about?” I told him.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got the darnedest memory. Do you know I just can’t remember whether the fire was to-day or last week. Ain’t that a hell of a thing?”

I shoved past him and went out into the street.

I found Whisky lying on the floor of the taxi, but Myra wasn’t there.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Get inside,” Whisky said. “Where have you been?” The urgency in his voice startled me, so I got into the cab and shut the door.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“How much longer are you keeping me here?” the driver asked angrily. “I’ve got a home if you haven’t.”

Whisky showed his teeth. “Sit there and like it,” he snarled. The driver got out of his cab hastily. “Come on, legs,” he said, clutching at his collar. “I’m going to start running.”

“Come back when you’re through,” I said. “You’ve got a nice evening for it.” The driver didn’t listen. He began running madly down the street.

I turned my attention to Whisky. “Now,” I said, “where did she go?”

“Keep down,” Whisky said in a mysterious mutter. “The cops have moved in.”

“What?” I exclaimed, startled. “What do you mean? Have they got her?”

“A couple of minutes and it’ll all be over,” he returned with ghoulish gloom. “She’s in that lingerie shop across the street. The moment you’d gone, she spotted it and made a dart for it. I hadn’t time to reason with her. There was a copper on the corner and he saw her. It took him just five seconds to call the riot squad. They’ve just moved in.”

I looked across the street. Two patrolmen stood outside the smart modiste shop, looking with interest at the various garments displayed in the windows.

“Why don’t they bring her out?” I said, feeling a little sick.

“How do I know?” Whisky said peevishly. I could see he was as worried as I was.

“Well, I’m not staying here,” I said, “I’m going to see what’s cooking. You wait here,” and I left the taxi and crossed the Street.

The two patrolmen looked like they were going to stop me, but I kept walking and they let me through.

The first guy I set eyes on was Clancy.

“Well, well,” I said, smiling at him. “Buying something for the little woman?”

“There you are!” he 8aid, swelling with rage. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where is she?”

I took a quick gander round the shop. It was certainly a nice place. The guy who’d put it together had taken a lot of pains to get it just right. It was all chromium furniture, mirrors and concealed lighting. The carpet was so thick that it tickled my ankles. There were a number of alcoves round the room containing life-size models on which were displayed bathing suits, lingerie and evening gowns. Some of these models were so snappy that I took a second look to make sure I wasn’t passing anything up.

At the far end of the room, a patrolman stood guard over a group of girls. He seemed to be enjoying his job. I could understand that. The girls looked like they had been lifted straight out of the front line of the Follies. There was a nervous looking guy in morning clothes, fussing around. I guessed he was the manager of the shop.

But there was no sign of Myra.

I turned my attention to Clancy. “Where’s who?” I asked. “Why don’t you relax sometimes, old boy? Life ain’t all work. Take a gander at those wenches huddling in the corner. Don’t they stir your pulse?”

“Don’t give me that stuff,” Clancy said, looking fierce. “She was seen coming in here and now you turn up. Do you think I’m dumb?”

“She… she… she?” I repeated. “What are you talking about? What she?”

“This Shumway bird,” Clancy said, clenching his fists and looking homicidal. “You’d better be careful, Millan. She’s wanted for murder.”

“I know, I know. But, what have I got to do with it? I just got here,” I said. “Haven’t you searched the joint? And listen, Clancy, while we’re on the subject, you’d better be careful. My paper won’t stand for me being kicked around.”

That slowed him up. He vented his temper on the cops.

“Don’t stand there like a bunch of stuffed eels,” he snarled. “Look for her. Turn this joint upside down. Take it to pieces. She’s here, so find her!”

The manager came rushing up. “I won’t have it!” he spluttered. “You can’t go into the dressing rooms. My customers wouldn’t stand for it. This is an unpardonable, unwarranted outrage!”

“Wait a minute,” Clancy said to the cops. Then he turned on the manager. “Do you think I care what you’ve got to say? A woman came in her five minutes ago and she’s still here. Where did she go?”

The manager wrung his hands. “I put her in that dressing room,” he said, pointing to an empty room near one of the alcoves. “She’s vanished. I didn’t see what happened to her.”

“Well, she’s somewhere around,” Clancy said, between his teeth. “Send one of your dames into all those rooms and get every woman out of ’em.”

“This should be good,” I said. “A great out-door playboy like you wouldn’t know that dames go in those rooms to undress.”

“Keep out of this!” Clancy bellowed. “I’m going to find that dame if it’s the last thing I do.”

“It certainly will be the last thing you do if you drive a lot of undressed society dames out of hiding,” I returned. “Captain Summers’ wife buys stuff here.”

He pushed his face into mine. “If you don’t pipe down, I’ll make you sorry you were born,” he said violently, but I could see that I’d shaken him. “You want this girl to get away, don’t you? Well, she ain’t getting away.”

I shrugged. “Go ahead,” I said. “It’s your funeral.”

He turned back to the manager. “Get ’em out!” he ordered. “Everyone of ’em. She’s hiding somewhere in those rooms and she’s wanted for murder!”

The manager hesitated, then he decided that there was nothing he could do about it. He told off a couple of the girls and they went from cubicle to cubicle.

In five minutes about six women, in wraps, were standing indignantly before Clancy, who looked as if he were going out of his mind. Myra wasn’t among them.

While he was staring at them, I wandered round looking at the wax models. I began to suspect where Myra was hiding. Sure enough, one of them looked familiar. I looked again and Myra met my eyes imploringly. She had on a smart black frock and a large floppy hat which hid her face. Standing with the other models, it was impossible to spot who she was until you got right up to her.

“Go away,” Myra hissed. “Don’t look at me.”

“But I must look at you,” I said in an undertone. “I love you for one thing and you look terrific for another. Are you scared, sweetheart?”

“Terribly,” she said. “But, do go away.”

“I’m going,” I said, “but I’ll be back.”

As I turned away, one of the saleswomen came to me.

“Hello,” she said.

I looked at her and paused. She was a red-head. Now, I like red heads. I like them particularly if they have a nice creamy skin, green eyes and a lot of curves. This one had everything, so I said, “Hullo,” and raised my hat.

“Were you thinking of buying that dress?” she asked, smiling. “I’d just love to help you.”

I glanced over at Clancy. He was still trying to explain himself to the indignant women.

“It did cross my mind,” I said cautiously, “but I’ve got nothing to fill it with when I get it home.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, sidling a little closer. “The trouble is having too many girls and not enough dresses to go round.”

“I like it that way,” I said simply. “I’m a man of nature.”

She blinked just once, but it didn’t stop her entirely.

“There’s something in my book of rules about men of nature,” she said, looking puzzled. “I just can’t remember what it was right now.”

“Lady,” I said earnestly, “you don’t need any rules. You ought to get along all right by your instincts.”

“That’d be like driving a car with no brakes,” she said. “I know my instincts better than you.”

She began to interest me.

“Maybe we’ll go for a drive together one of these days,” I said hopefully.

“Let’s not make too many plans,” she returned. “Let’s concentrate on this dress.” She turned back to Myra. “Don’t you think I’d look cute in it?”

“Not half so cute as without it,” I said hurriedly.

“I don’t think I like that remark,” she said. “It doesn’t indicate a sound business footing.”

“Who cares about a business footing?” I returned. “Let’s go somewhere and forget business.”

“Keep concentrating on this dress,” she said insistently. “I know I’d look good in it. Let me put it on and show you.”

“Some other time” I began, and stopped because she had put her hand on Myra’s arm.

“It’s awfully attractive,” she said wistfully. Then a look of puzzled fright entered her eyes and she pressed Myra’s arm.

I hastily took her hand away. “I used to be a palmist,” I said. “Let me read your lines.”

“So long as we’re thinking of the same lines,” she returned, trying to smile, but all the time she kept staring at Myra with growing uneasiness. “Do you know that dummy felt almost human,” she went on in a low voice.

“Yeah?” I said, patting Myra’s hip. “Isn’t it marvelous what they do with papier mŕché these days?”

I still kept hold of her hand and she began to calm down. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Myra move. Still keeping her fixed pose, she rose a foot into the air and remained there. I came out in a cold sweat

The red bead had her back to Myra, so she didn’t see what was going en. I put my hand on Myra’s shoulder and pushed her back on her stand again and held her there.

“Can you really read my lines?” the red head asked.

“Well, I took a correspondent course a few months back,” I said, feeling like hell. “I can only read the past up to now, but I hope to get around to the future sometime next week.”

I released Myra for a second. She began to rise off the ground, so I hung on to her again. The red-head hastily snatched her hand from mine. “I’ll wait until next week,” she said, “I know all about my past. That’s something I like to keep to myself.”

That came as no surprise, but I didn’t tell her so.

“You seem to like that model,” she said, “or can’t you make up your mind?”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold Myra and just for a moment, she succeeded in rising a few inches before I slammed her back again.

The red-head drew in a sharp breath. “Is—is it trying to get away?” she said fearfully.

“There’s a draught in this joint,” I explained. “These models are mighty light.”

She backed away. “You know I don’t like that old model,” she said. “I just don’t like it at all.”

Clancy, who had got rid of the indignant women, joined us. He was sweating freely and he looked mad.

“What are you pawing that dummy for?” he demanded.

“I’m that kind of a guy,” I said desperately. “I go for dummies in a big way.”

The red-head said, “There’s something about that old model. It’s trying to fly away.” Clancy looked at her suspiciously. “What do you mean… fly away?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s what it’s trying to do.”

“Pay no attention to her, Clancy,” I said quickly. “She’s not herself to-day.”

Clancy looked at me and then he looked at Myra. “So that’s it,” he said between his teeth.

“I might have known it. So that’s where she’s hiding,” and before I could stop him he’d whipped off Myra’s hat.

Myra didn’t blink an eye-lash. She just stood there, her eyes blank and her body rigid. Clancy stared at her. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s her all right. You can cut that dummy act out. You’re under arrest,” he went on to Myra.

I took my hand from Myra’s shoulder and stepped back. As Clancy moved forward to grab her she floated out of his reach. Still keeping her stiff pose, she rose about ten feet in the air.

It certainly upset Clancy. He closed his eyes.

“Gawd!” he said. “What a horrible sight!”

“What’s worrying you?” I asked. “Haven’t you heard of the new lighter-than-air models? It helps solve the transportation problems,” and I patted him on the back.

“Never mind about the transportation problems,” he said, looking at Myra from between his fingers. “I’ve got my own problems to worry about just now.”

Then Whisky wandered into the shop.

In the general confusion no one noticed his entrance. The saleswomen were screaming, while the shop manager had collapsed on the floor and was jerking feebly at his collar. The cops just stood rooted, staring at Myra in horror.

To make matters worse, the red-head had thrown her arms round my neck and was screaming wildly in my ear.

It was a pretty good time for Whisky’s entrance. He came straight over to me. “You haven’t been long getting yourself fixed up,” he said approvingly. “That’s quite a pretty trill you’ve got there.”

The effect of this speech was electrifying. The red-head gave a stifled moan and slid to the floor in a faint. Clancy backed away, his face like a flour bag, while everyone else in the room stopped making noises and clutched one another.

“And now do you believe my story about talking dogs and floating women?” I said to Clancy. “It’s all here for you to see.”

“I’ll believe anything,” Clancy said, shivering. “This is too much for me. You’ve all got to see the captain.”

Whisky peered into the red-heed’s face “Odd how these dames pass out, isn’t it?” he said and began to lick her face energetically.

I caught him a quick kick where it’d do him the most good. He gave a startled curse and removed his tail hurriedly.

“Leave her alone,” I said sternly. “Besides, all that make-up might poison you.”

“As a matter of fact,” Whisky said with a leer, “it was extraordinarily tasty. But apart from that, I was just trying to revive her.”

“She doesn’t need reviving,” I returned. “She’s happier the way she is.”

“Can’t you stop him?” Clancy pleaded, gaping at Whisky as if he was some monster. “I can’t stand any more of this.”

Myra swooped past me. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Shall I run away?”

“No,” I said. “We can’t go on like this. We’ll all go along to Summers and let him sort everything out.”

She settled lower and then stretched out within my grasp. I pulled her to me and kissed her.

“It’ll be all right,” I promised. “They’ll have to listen to reason.”

Clancy tried to pull himself together. “Can’t you persuade that dame to stand on her feet?” he pleaded. “It’s doing me no good at all seeing her that way.”

Myra frowned at him. “I’m not considering you,” she said. “You’ve never done anything for me.”

“You remain like that,” I urged. “The more people who see you like that the more witnesses we’ll have. Let’s go, sweetheart.”

I took her by her shoulders and began pushing her towards the door.

It must have been a pretty upsetting sight. Myra lay full length, suspended in the air, with her hands folded across her chest. It was like pushing a perambulator that hadn’t any wheels.

Whisky fell in step beside me. “Going through the streets like that, old pal?” he asked.

“That’s the idea,” I said firmly, leaving Myra in mid-air while I opened the shop door.

“Hey!” Clancy said, running up to me. “You can’t do a thing like that!”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” I said grimly.

He looked round desperately. “You guys!” he shouted to the cringing patrolmen. “Get these two into the wagon.”

The patrolmen hesitated and then approached us warily.

“I think we’re going to have a little trouble,” I said to Myra. She lowered her feet to the ground. “Leave this to me,” she said, her eyes snapping fire, “I’ve been very good up to now. If they’re going to be nasty then I’ll be nasty, too.”

Now she was on the ground, the patrolmen seemed to regain some of their courage. They came towards us in a body.

Myra flickered her fingers at them and they suddenly paused. “It’s beginning to rain,” one of them said uneasily.

“What are you talking about?” Clancy snarled. “It doesn’t matter if it rains! Arrest that woman!”

A big Irish cop extended his hand and then went a little pale.

“Holy Moses!” he said in a strangled voice. “It’s raining in here!”

I thought Clancy would go out of his mind. “It don’t rain indoors, you punk!” he stormed.

“I’ll tear that badge off your coat if you don’t do what I tell you!”

Myra flicked her fingers in his direction and almost immediately he stiffened. “Gawd!” he said looking up at the ceiling. “It is raining!”

“Didn’t I tell you,” the Irish cop said feverishly. “I think I’ll get out of here.”

This intrigued me. Over each patrolman and Clancy I could see a light sprinkle of water falling. It didn’t come from the ceiling but seemed to start a few feet above them.

As they moved uneasily the shower of water followed them. It was the damnedest thing I’d ever seen.

“Are you doing this?” I whispered to Myra.

“Certainly,” she said. “Didn’t you know I could make rain? It’s an old Naguale custom.” She suddenly spied the red-head who was sitting up in a dazed kind of way. “And a little rain might improve that young woman’s complexion,” she went on grimly.

She flicked her fingers in the red-head’s direction.

There was no question of a sprinkle of water this time. It began to rain in torrents. The redhead screamed wildly and getting to her feet, she dashed round the room. The narrow ribbon of pouring water followed her ruthlessly. In a few seconds she was soaked to the skin.

“I think that will do,” Myra said, looking pleased. “She’s not nearly so attractive, is she?” Right now the red-head looked like something that’d got lost in a river.

“You’re right,” I said, wondering if I was losing my mind. Myra flicked her fingers and the rain stopped.

The cops and Clancy began mopping themselves with their handkerchiefs. The red-head lay on the floor and drummed hysterically with her heels.

“If there’s any more talk about wagons,” Myra said coldly, “it’ll begin raining again.”

“Do what you like, lady,” Clancy said brokenly. “I ain’t making trouble.”

Myra resumed her suspended position. “Push me through the streets,” she said to me. “All the way to police headquarters. Then we’ll have lots of witnesses, won’t we?”

As I began to push her to the door again, Sam Bogle entered the shop.

One look was enough to see that Sam had been hitting the bottle. He didn’t look at any of us except Myra.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with it,” he said. “Doc was a pal of mine and no jury can kill a pal of mine and get away with it.”

We were all so startled that no one moved. Myra lowered her feet to the floor and faced him.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said quietly. “You ought to know that, Sam.”

“You killed him all right,” Sam said, his eyes gleaming evilly.

“Well, this is where you get yours.”

“Look out!” Whisky shouted and sprang forward.

He was too late. Sam fired from his hip. I saw the flash from the gun. Myra took two tottering steps forward. Then she spread out on the floor.

No one could do anything but stare. Sam let the gun slide out of his hand.

Then I ran to Myra. As I bent over her, I heard Sam’s voice wailing.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he kept saying “Honest to Gawd, I didn’t mean to do it.”

I went into the little room with Whisky.

Myra was lying flat. She looked small and white and just to see her turned my heart over.

I sat down and took her hand.

She opened her eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” she said.

Whisky pushed his long muzzle on the bed. She touched his ears for a moment before turning to me again.

“There was no one big enough to keep me out,” I said, trying to smile. “Please get well, sweetheart, I can’t get along without you.”

“I’ll get well,” she said, “only, I’m tired. I’ll be better when I’ve had some sleep. I don’t want to stay awake any more.”

“Listen, kid, the doctor says you’re not trying,” I went on, stroking her wrist, “you must fight. There’s Whisky and me wanting you. You can’t pass us up.”

“It’s awfully hard,” she said drowsily. “I have only half my resistance. If my other half were here I know I’d be all right.”

Then I realized why she couldn’t get well. She had to have Arym to help her fight. Before I could say anything, a nurse came in and beckoned to me.

I petted Myra’s hand. “I’ll be back,” I said. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”

She kept her eyes open with an effort. “Come back soon,” she said urgently.

I went out into the hall again.

Summers said, “She’s pretty bad, isn’t she?”

“I guess so,” I returned. “Can I take a walk around the block! This place gives me a pain.”

“Sure,” he said sympathetically, “I know how you feel.”

I went over to Bogle. “Cheer up,” I said, “I’m doing all I can for her.”

Sam had tears in his eyes. “I don’t know why I did it,” he said miserably. “I guess I was crazy.”

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. “I know how you felt about Doc. He meant as much to you as Myra does to me.

I’d have done the same thing in your place.”

He shook his head, “I wouldn’t have hurt her for anything, but I got good and mad.”

There was nothing I could say to him that’d do any good, so I left him and went out into the street.

“Whisky,” I said, “we’re going after Arym. She’s the only one who can save Myra.”

“How can she help her?” Whisky asked hopelessly.

“Don’t you understand? She’s got half of Myra’s willpower and strength. Get them together and they can both make a real fight for it. Peppi will know where she is. I’ll see him first.”

“You’re taking a chance with Peppi, aren’t you?”

“I have to take a chance. If he doesn’t know where she is, I’m sunk.”

“He won’t talk without those photos,” Whisky said. “Why not get ’em and trade with him?” I glanced at my watch. It was seven fifty. Maddox would have gone home by now.

“It’s an idea,” I said, waving down a passing cab. “If we can get into Maddox’s office, I think I can bust his safe?”

As we drove off Whisky said, “I don’t think I want to be mixed up in this. I was merely giving advice.”

“You’ll come with me and like it,” I said shortly. “It all depends whether we can reach Maddox’s office without being seen. If we can, then the rest’s easy.”

Whisky clicked his teeth uneasily. “They wouldn’t put a dog in jail, would they?” he asked.

“No, they’d take you some place and shoot you.”

“I was afraid of that,” Whisky returned mournfully.

“Why worry? They can’t do that more than once to you,” I said, trying to cheer him up. Maddox’s office was on the top floor of the Recorder building. I stopped the cab at the corner of the street and we walked the short distance to the entrance. There was no doorman on duty at that time of night, but I had to get pest the man at the information desk just inside the hall to reach the elevator.

We paused at the entrance and I took a quick gander through the glass doors.

“We’re in luck,” I said to Whisky, “I don’t know the guy. Come on in.”

The man at the desk just glanced at us without interest.

“I want to talk to the night editor,” I said. “I’m a friend of his. Can I go up?”

“Sure,” he said. “Know your way?”

I nodded and we went over to the automatic elevator. “Well, that was easy,” I said, as the elevator shot up.

Whisky heaved a sigh. “You can get five years for this,” he returned. “Even Summers couldn’t do anything for you.”

“Quiet!” I said and stepped out onto the eighth floor. At the end f the passage was the door that led to Maddox’s offices. As we approached, Whisky cocked his head on one side.

“Wait a minute,” he said sharply.

“What’s up?”

“Someone’s in there,” he said, “I can hear ’em.”

I listened, but I couldn’t hear a thing. “Sure?”

“You bet I’m sure,” Whisky said, lowering his tail.

I crept to the door and listened. A man’s voice sounded faintly through the thick door.

“Hell!” I said, stepping back. “What do we do now?”

“We go some place and wait,” Whisky returned.

I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it softly. The door gave a few inches and I looked into the outer office. There was no one there, but voices came from Maddox’s office across the room. His door stood open.

“Wait here,” I whispered, and entered the outer office silently.

I crossed the room and edged up to the open door. One quick glance brought me up short. Peppi was standing by Maddox’s safe. With him was his muscleman, Lew, and two other men I hadn’t seen before.

Peppi was smoking a cigar, his hands in his pockets and his hat pushed to the back of his head. He watched Lew, who was trying to open the safe.

I backed away, crossed the office once more and started to join Whisky. Then I paused. Standing on one of the desks was a press camera complete with a flash-gun. I picked it up as I passed and then joined Whisky in the passage.

“What’s up?” Whisky asked, eyeing the camera nervously.

“Peppi and his gang are cracking the safe,” I said. “Now look, I’m going back in there and I’m going to get a picture of them. If we can get away with this we’ve got Peppi just where we want him.”

“You don’t think he’ll let you take a picture of him and then walk out, do you?” Whisky demanded. “He’ll probably be a very mad man.”

“That’s where you come in,” I said.

“They’ve tried to brain me before,” Whisky returned uneasily. “I’d prefer to remain neutral, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Pipe down,” I said. “As soon as I’ve taken the picture, I’ll give the plate to you and you beat it. I’ll bold them off until you get away. They won’t do anything to me so long as we have the picture.”

“That’s what you hope,” Whisky said. “They may have different ideas.”

I thought that was likely, but I had to take the chance.

“When you get outside, go to Miss Halliday’s apartment and wait for me,” I said. “I’ve told her about you and she’s expecting us. If I don’t come out within an hour, turn the picture over to Summers.”

Whisky looked worried. “Aren’t you being unnecessarily heroic?” he asked. “Can’t we work out something better than that?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got to put the screws to Peppi and this is the only way to do it. Get in the elevator and wait for me.”

“Well, I’d rather it was you than me,” Whisky said, enter in the elevator.

I adjusted the shutter of the camera and set the lens-stop. Then I went back into the room. Peppi was cursing Lew when I arrived at the door.

“If you can’t get that can open,” he snarled, “why don’t you say so? We’ve been here twenty minutes.”

“Gimme a break, will you?” Lew grunted, his ear against the safe. “I gotta have quiet to hear these tumblers.”

Peppi drew in a deep breath and stood over him. That was how I found them.

I shoved the camera round the door and braced it. Then I said sharply: “Hold it!”

I gave them time to look round and then I released the shutter. There was a blinding flash as the flashlight exploded and I didn’t wait to see what happened.

I whipped across the outer office, slammed the door and jerked the plate out of the camera. Whisky watched me with startled eyes.

“Here you are,” I said and shoved the plate holder into his mouth. Then I pressed the elevator button and the door snapped shut as Lew and Peppi tumbled into the passage.

Lew had a gun in his hand and he looked mean.

“Grab some air,” he said, pointing the gun at me.

I raised my hands, holding the camera above my head.

Peppi, snarling with rage, snatched the camera out of my hand. He took one look at it and flung it to the floor.

“Where’s the plate?” he snapped.

“On its way down,” I said. “Now, don’t get excited,” I went on hurriedly as Lew made as if to slug me. “That picture’ll give you a lot of grief if you don’t wise up.”

“Who’s got it?” Peppi snarled.

“Never mind who’s got it,” I returned. “All you have to worry about is who’s going to have it in an hour’s time.”

“That’s it, is it?” Peppi’s voice was soft and menacing. “You’re crazy to try that stuff on me.”

“Okay, so I’m crazy,” I said. “But I’ve got something on you, Peppi, that you won’t get out of in a hurry.”

“Let me slug this punk,” Law said.

Peppi jerked his head to the office. “Come in here,” he said, “I want to talk to you.”

I went into the office with Lew crowding me.

“What’s the idea?” Peppi said. “Come on—give.”

“If I’m not at a certain address in an hour’s time,” I explained, watching Lew out of the corner of my eye, “that picture’s going to the police chief. And then you can talk yourself out of it.”

“What address?” Peppi asked, fiddling with his cigar.

“Be your age,” I returned, wandering over to the desk and sitting on it. “Now listen, Peppi, here’s the deal. Give me Arym and I’ll give you the picture.”

While I was talking I glanced over Maddox’s desk. I remembered there was a button concealed somewhere which let off the burglar alarm. Maddox had had it fitted when some hood had threatened to scramble his brains in the old days of prohibition.

Peppi turned to Lew. “Get that safe open,” he said. “We’ll fix this guy when we’re through.”

That didn’t suit me. I spotted the button and rammed my thumb on it.

One of the other men caught me a full swing behind my ear, but he was a shade late. As I went over on the floor a bell began to ring somewhere in the building.

I struggled to my feet as Law went for me.

“Cut it out!” Peppi said, his face white with rage. “Take him and let’s get out of here.”

Lew dug his gun into my spine and herded me into Maddox’s private elevator. The others followed.

As we shot between floors, Peppi said: “You’ll be damned sorry you stuck your neck out.” And I didn’t like the look in his eyes.

The elevator landed us at the side entrance, away from the main doors. There was a big closed car waiting and as soon as we had bundled in it shot away towards Fifth Avenue. No one said anything all the way to Peppi’s house. Law sat by my side with his gun sticking into me and a hungry look in his eyes. I felt that I’d only to flicker an eye-lash and he’d plug me. So I sat still and sweated plenty.

When we got inside Peppi’s house Lew Shoved me into the sitting room.

The butler was in there fussing with a decanter. He looked at me with a tight smile on his crooked face.

Peppi said: “Get Miss Brandt.”

The butler went out.

Peppi and Law left me standing in the middle of the room and went over to the window. They whispered together and then Law gave a low laugh.

“Don’t waste too much time,” I said, feeling uneasy. “You’ve only got another thirty-five minutes to turn Arym over to me.”

“That’ll be long enough,” Peppi said.

“I’m not bluffing,” I said. “I’ve got you where I want you. Give me the girl or that picture goes to Summers. Where is she?”

Peppi shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “And I don’t care. I warned you not to double-cross me. Now you’re going to get your lesson.”

The door opened and Lydia Brandt came in. She looked at me much the same way a tiger looks at its dinner.

“I want this guy to talk,” Peppi said. “I thought rnaybe you’d like to soften him.”

Lydia smiled.. “Yes,” she said. “That would amuse me.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Peppi asked.

“I want to try that experiment again. I made a mess of it last time,” she answered.

Peppi shrugged. “She thinks she can cut a guy. I tell her she can’t do it.”

Lew sneered. “Let her try,” he said. “It don’t matter if she makes a mess of this punk, does it?”

I began to sweat.

Lew went to the door and called in the other two birds who had been in Maddox’s office.

“Tie this lug up,” he said. “If he starts anything, beat his brains out.”

Before I could make up my mind what to do they grabbed me. I waited until they began to twist my arms behind me, then I let them have it.

I wrenched one of my arms free and slugged the bigger of the two guys in the eye, then as the other swung at me I stepped close and hit him low.

That was as far as I got. Lew came up and slammed me over the head with his gun-butt. By the time I’d cleared my head I was sitting in a chair trussed up like a Houdini act.

Peppi was looking at the clock. “We ain’t got a lot of time,” he said.

“It’s not going to take me long,” Lydia said. She held a thin, sharp knife in her hand. She looked across at me. “You won’t have many dates after this,” she said viciously.

“Let’s be reasonable,” I said hurriedly. “You wouldn’t really want to do that to me.”

She held up the knife, then she came over. “You won’t feet it for a while,” she said, standing over ime. “I’ve done it before.” Her face was white and stony and I could see she was - getting a big kick out of seeing me sweat.

Peppi said to me. “Are you talking?”

“I’m talking,” I said, shrinking away from the knife.

“Where’s the plate?”

I gave him Harriet’s address.

“Let’s go,” he said to Lew. “We’ve still got ten minutes.”

They made for the door.

“Hey!” I shouted, “don’t leave me with this dame. She might start something.”

Peppi paused and smiled at me, “She will,” he said, “maybe you won’t be in such a hurry to double-cross me next time.” He looked over at Lydia, “When you’re through, tell Toni to park him in the river.”

She nodded.

“We’ll be back pretty soon,” Peppi said, and they all went out leaving me with Lydia.

I admit, right at that moment I was losing a lot of weight. I strained on the cords that held me but I couldn’t budge them.

There was a cold efficiency about Lydia that told me she was going through with this.

She was batty, of course. As crazy as a bug, but that didn’t help me.

“Well,” she said, “we’re ready to go. All you have to do is to sit still. I’m quick and it won’t hurt for a few hours, anyway,” she chuckled. “Then it’ll hurt plenty.”

I believed her.

She came over and twined her long fingers in my hair. I rammed my chin on my chest so she couldn’t get at my face.

“Don’t make it difficult,” she said, pulling at my hair. It scared me to feel how strong she was.

I braced myself and kept my chin down. She kept pulling and it felt like the top of my head was coming off.

“Damn you!” she said suddenly and touched my ear with the knife.

I jerked away with a yell and the next second I was staring up at the ceiling with the knife hovering a few inches from my eyes.

Then the door burst open and Arym marched in.

Lydia released my hair and stood away. Arym stared first at me and then at Lydia, and I could have hugged her if I’d been free.

Lydia was the first to recover, “What do you want?” she said in a flat, sullen voice, “go away!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arym demanded, her eyes flashing. “What’s happening, Ross?”

“She’s going to mask my face,” I said feverishly, “it’s an old family custom.”

“Is she?” Arym laid her gloves and bag down on the table. She took off her hat with deliberation. “Not so long as I’m standing on my two feet,” she said.

“Get Out “Lydia said furiously, “you’ve no business being in here. Go upstairs and wait for Peppi. He wants me to do this.”

“He’s mine,” Arym said, moving towards Lydia. “No one touches him but me.”

Lydia went for her with the knife.

I yelled a warning, but it wasn’t necessary. Arym was quite capable of taking care of herself. She simply vanished in a puff of white smoke.

Lydia stopped in her rush with a startled scream. She looked around the room, her knife held ready and her eyes wild.

Just behind her a large vase containing flowers suddenly floated off the table. It shot high into the air and descended on Lydia’s head. She flattened out on the floor and the vase flew in a hundred pieces.

“And that’s that,” said Arym’s voice.

Invisible hands gathered the flowers into a bunch and laid them on Lydia’s chest.

“She only lacks a wooden overcoat,” Arym said, suddenly reappearing. “But I haven’t time for that now.”

I felt unnerved. “I just can’t get used to your tricks,” I said, staring at Lydia with morbid fascination.

“Didn’t you like that little exhibition?” Arym asked, not without pride.

“I thought it was swell,” I said, “but I can’t stand a lot of it. Look, sweetheart, will you untie me?”

“Oh, no,” Arym said firmly, “I want to talk to you first.”

“But we haven’t time,” I said desperately. “Peppi’ll come back any minute.”

She shrugged, “I couldn’t care less about that,” she returned, putting her arm round my neck. “I can do to Peppi what I did to her and think nothing of it.”

“Arym, you must let me loose,” I said feverishly, “I want you to do something for me.”

“I know,” she said, “but you’re going to hear what I want first.” She sat on my knee and began fondling my ear. That’s a thing I can’t stand, but I wasn’t in the position to tell her so.

“You’re going to marry me.”

I stared at her, “Of all the crazy things!” I said angrily. “This is no time for fooling.”

“But, I’m not fooling,” she said, “you’re marrying me or it’ll be the last thing you refuse me.”

“I’m marrying Myra,” I said, trying to push her away, “Be reasonable for the love of mike. Myra’s desperately ill. She needs you. You can’t refuse to help her.”

“I know all about that,” she said carelessly, “I’ve just come from seeing her. She knew what was happening here and she sent me to get you out of the mess. I agreed on one condition—that she would give you up. Well, she’s given you up. If you want me to save her, you must promise to marry me.”

“I’m not going to,” I said, hardly believing my ears. “Of all the dirty tricks! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Don’t get upstage,” Aryrn said, putting her face against mine. “I’ll let Peppi handle you, if you don’t play along with me. And I’ll let Myra fend for herself, too.”

I drew a deep breath, “You can’t do this,” I said, “think what it means. You don’t really think you could hold me to such a marriage. Why I’d leave you in a week. What do you think I am—a mouse?”

A look of doubt came into Arym’s eyes, “But, don’t you like me a little?” she pleaded, hugging me to her.

“I like you all right,” I said, “you’ve got everything Myra has except her nice nature. That’s something you’ll never have.”

“I could be nice to you,” she wheedled, “and you would be good for me.” I had a sudden idea.

“I’ll agree on one condition,” I said.

She looked suspicious, “What condition?”

“You return to Myra, give up your body and I’ll marry you both.”

“No,” she said, getting off my knee. “I want to have a body of my own.”

“But, you’ll never really be happy,” I urged, feeling that I was persuading her. “It’s the only way you’ll ever get me. If you can’t share me with Myra then I’m through with you.”

She began to pace up and down. “You don’t understand what this means to me. As I am now, I can do what I like, go where I like and love whom I like.”

“And where’s it getting you?” I asked. “Can’t you see it’s the only possible way out? Ask yourself, have you been happy? You’re only half yourself. Myra has all the good qualities. If you go back to her you’ll be complete and you’ll have me.”

She stopped pacing and stared at me. “You devil,” she said, “I hadn’t thought of it like that. You’re right. I have missed Myra. I’ve missed tempting her to do the wrong things. I’ve missed fighting with her. I guess I’m being a sucker, but I’ll do it, if she’ll have me back.”

“I warn you,” I said, “you’re going to behave. No more stealing. I’ll be around to keep you in order.”

“I’ll do it—for no other man in the world but you,” she said, and picking up the knife she cut me free.

I stood up with a grimace. “We must get over to Myra,” I said, stamping life into my legs.

“I’ve left her too long as it is.”

“Don’t fuss,” she said. “She’ll be all right.”

I suddenly remembered Whisky. “My goodness!” I said hobbling to the telephone. “Maybe Peppi’s cutting poor old Whisky’s throat right now.”

“You worry too much,” Arym said calmly. “He’ll have his throat cut sooner or later, he’s that kind of a dog.”

I got through to police headquarters.

When Summers came on the line I shot him the story. “Get a squad over there,” I said feverishly, giving him Harriet’s address. “And make it snappy. You’ll have Kruger and his mob on ice if you get that picture.”

“We’ll get it,” Summers said excitedly, and hung up.

“I hope they do,” I said. “Well, let’s get over to the hospital.” I put my arm around her and kissed her. “You’re a nice kid,” I said. “And you won’t have any regrets. Now, come on. Go into your vanishing act. The cops mustn’t see you.”

“Consider it done,” she said, and a wisp of smoke indicated where she had been standing.

When we reached the hospital we found Clancy and a couple of cops still waiting outside Myra’s door. Bogle had been taken away.

I went up to Clancy. “How is she?” I asked anxiously.

Clancy looked mournful. “She’s bad,” he said. “The doc’s in there now.”

“Can I go in?”

“Not yet,” Clancy said, shaking his head. “Maybe when the doc’s through.”

I turned away. I was tempted to burst into her room, but I knew it wouldn’t do, so I wandered over to a chair and sat down.

“Who’s the guy with a face like a tomato?” Arym whispered in my ear.

I told her.

“He looks like a heel,” Arym said. “I think I’ll throw a scare into him.”

“Lay off,” I said hurriedly. “We don’t want any trouble here.”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble to me,” she said wistfully. “It’d be fun.”

“Now for the love of mike behave yourself. Haven’t I enough on my mind without you adding to it?”

Clancy had drawn near and was staring at me with startled Interest. “Do you have to do that?” he asked suspiciously.

“Why not?” I returned. “Can’t I talk to myself without you horning in?”

“I guess so,” he returned, looking at me old fashioned. “But, I don’t like it much. It shows softening of the brain.”

“That’s better than having no brain at all, you cretin,” Arym’s voice snapped.

Clancy stiffened. “What’s that?” he said, glaring at me. “I didn’t say anything,” I returned hurriedly.

“Don’t tell lies,” Clancy said. “One more crack like that and I’ll toss you in the can. And cut out that falsetto voice. I don’t like it.”

Just then a young and pretty nurse came down the corridor.

Clancy, who never passed up a nice-looking girl, swallowed his wrath. He adjusted his necktie and smirked at her. “Evening,” he said, swelling out his chest.

She paused and smiled brightly. “Good evening,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Before Clancy could reply, Arym’s voice said from behind him, “You can wipe that smile off your insipid face.”

Clancy couldn’t believe his cars. He looked around wildly, his mouth gaping.

The nurse tossed her head. “If it comes to that,” she said, “your face isn’t so much, and from the sound of your voice you should be shuffled and dealt again.”

As she passed Clancy there came the sound of a sharp slap. The nurse gave a convulsive start and stifled a scream. For a moment she stood rigid and then turned, her face scarlet.

“That wasn’t a nice thing to do,” she said. “Do you call yourself a gentleman?”

Clancy blinked at her. “I ain’t done nothing,” he said uneasily.

“It may seem nothing to you,” the nurse returned. “But, I’ll have you know that back in my home-town gentlemen don’t do such things.”

Clancy began to get mad. “You’re not the only one who has a home-town,” he snapped.

“I shouldn’t like to visit yours, if you’re a specimen of what comes out of it,” the nurse returned, putting her hands carelessly behind her and edging away.

This remark hurt Clancy’s pride. “I’ll have you know,” he said, “my home-town’s the oldest in the country.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” the nurse said feelingly. “You have some of its oldest habits,” and tossing her bead, she went off down the corridor.

“What kind of hospital is this?” Clancy demanded, glaring after her. “Even the nurses are nuts!”

While he was speaking, Myra’s door opened and the doctor came out.

I jumped to my feet. “Can I see her?” I asked anxiously.

He looked at me gravely. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I did all I could for her.”

My heart went cold. “She’s not…?” I began, but the look in his eyes told me.

“She wouldn’t fight,” he said. “I can’t make it out. She just didn’t seem to have the will. I pushed past him and went into the room.

A nurse had pulled the sheet over Myra’s face. She glanced at me sympathetically and left the room.

I stood looking at Myra’s small form under the sheet and I felt pretty bad.

“So she quit,” Arym said, suddenly appearing at my side. “Can you beat that?” she jerked the sheet off Myra’s face.

Myra looked very peaceful. Her hair framed her small white face and there was a faint smile on her lips.

“Of all the smug, two-faced, prissy-mouthed fugitives from a convent,” Aryrn said in disgust. “She’s it.”

“Don’t,” I said, sitting wearily on the bed. “She wanted to live, but we were too late to help her.”

“Phooey!” Arym snapped. “She’s putting on an act. Cut it Out, Myra,” she went on. “Or I’ll grab that body and leave you without one.”

“Try it and I’ll haunt you,” Myra’s voice said close to me.

I looked round with a startled gasp. Standing at the foot of the bed I could make out a filmy shadow.

“Don’t materialize any further,” Arym exclaimed. “You haven’t got any clothes on.”

“As if I didn’t know,” Myra sounded annoyed. “Where have you two been? I was just going to look for you.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Aren’t you dead after all?”

“Of course, she isn’t,” Arym said. “I told you not to worry.”

“Has the darling been worrying?” Myra asked eagerly.

“You know how men are,” Arym replied airily. “But never mind him. Get back into your body. We have things to talk about.”

“I’ll be right with you,” Myra said, and the shadowy figure climbed on to the bed and melted out of sight.

A second later what had been Myra’s remains sat up abruptly in bed.

I shied away from her. This, I felt, was a little too much.

“He wants me to come back to you,” Arym said sulkily. “That’s the only way he’ll marry me.”

“Certainly not,” Myra said firmly. “I’ve bad enough of your influence to last me a lifetime. I’d rather be dead.”

I pulled myself together. “Myra,” I said, taking her hand, “you must be sensible. The new moon rises in an hour. If Doc was right, that’s when you’ll lose your supernatural powers and then it’ll be too late to do anything. You have to take her back. Think of me. Think of having her around all the rest of our days. Think of the mischief she could do us if we thwarted her.”

“That’s all very well,” Myra returned. “But what about Doc? She did kill him. I draw the line at sharing a body with a murderess.”

She had something there.

Arym pouted “If I fix Doc, will you do it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t kill the old fool. I wanted to have a hold on you so that Ross would work for Andasca.”

“Now look here, Arym, it’s no use lying. You did kill him. I saw him die,” I said coldly.

“You thought you saw him die,” Arym said, smiling. “Haven’t you heard of mass hypnotism?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, “What are you getting at?” I said. “Mass hypnotism? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not being very bright, are you darling?” she said patiently. “All I did was to put Doc in a coma and hypnotize you and Sam into believing he was hurt. The letter and the dress were planted to give the right atmosphere.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said, “the cops saw him too.”

“So what?” she returned “I was there all the time, although you couldn’t see me. It was as easy to hypnotize the cops as you.”

“Do you really mean Doc’s alive?” I still couldn’t believe it.

“Of course, but he doesn’t know it,” she said airily. “Right now he’s in the City morgue and he thinks he’s as dead as George Washington but we can soon fix that.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” I exclaimed “Look at the time, we’ve only a half an hour before midnight.”

Arym looked over at Myra, “Are you going to take me back?” she asked.

“I suppose I’ll have to” Myra said, a little doubtfully “Are you going to behave?”

“She’ll behave,” I said, “I know how to handle her.”

“All right,” Myra said, “I’ve missed her too. Come on back,” her eyes lit up, “it’ll be just like old times.”

Aryrn hesitated, then she came over to me. “You won’t ever see me again,” she said sadly, “not as I really am.” She put her arms round me. “This is the last time I’ll hold you like this.”

I pulled her to me and kissed her. “Be good,” I said, “I’m trusting you.”

“I’m ready when you two are,” Myra said, a little waspishly.

Aryrn gave me a quick hug and pushed me away. “Look out of the window,” she said, “I have to undress.”

I hadn’t turned my back for ten seconds when the door opened and Clancy walked in.

“So she’s dead, eh?” he said, “well, Bud, I’m sorry.”

I took a quick look at the bed and then stiffened. Myra and Arym were lying side by side, their blonde heads sharing the same pillow. Even though I knew what was happening, the sight unnerved me.

Clancy saw them at the same time. He blinked and passed his hand over his eyes. Then he had another look and went pale.

“She looks nice, doesn’t she?” I said, deciding to bluff.

Clancy made gurgling noises. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He moved closer to the bed and stared. “Yeah,” he said, in a cracked voice, “but it ain’t the kind of thing I want to see every day.”

“Nor do I,” I said feelingly, “but she does look happy.”

“That’s more than I do,” Clancy said, supporting himself against the bed rail, “my eyesight’s giving me a little trouble. You wouldn’t say there are two dames in that bed, would you?”

“No,” I said firmly, “I wouldn’t say that at all.”

“I didn’t think you would,” he returned, with a groan, “Maybe I’ve been working too hard.”

“You’d better go away some place quiet and lie down,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clancy said, “but I can’t imagine any place quiet enough,” and he went out of the room with dragging steps.

I turned back to the bed in time to see Arym merge into Myra.

“I’ll sure be glad when this business is over,” I said, mopping my face with my handkerchief.

Myra sat up in bed. “Wait for me,” she said, “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

“Don’t let them see you,” I said, and went out into the corridor.

Clancy was sitting in a heap with his head in his hands. The two cops were watching him uneasily.

“Don’t worry him,” I said to them, “he has a lot on his mind right now.”

“We ain’t worrying him,” one of the cops returned uneasily, “he’s worrying us.”

I moved down the corridor and stood waiting. Myra didn’t keep me long. Her voice sounded in my ear after a few minutes, “Let’s go,” she said.

We reached the city morgue a quarter before midnight. A thin, querulous looking bird with a heavy moustache and a network of veins over his sharp, hooked nose sat behind the counter. “What do you want?” he snapped.

“You have a body here I want to look at,” I said, taking out a Recorder press card and handing it to him, “a guy named Ansell. Doc Ansell.”

He flipped the card back to me, “Come to-morrow,” he said, and picked up his newspaper.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “I have to see this guy right now.” The morgue attendant glared at me over his glasses, “No one’s going in there to-night. Beat it,” he said.

I turned to Myra, “One of those nice helpful guys,” I said, “maybe you’d better do something about it. Look at the time.”

It was ten to twelve.

Myra said, “I’m on my way,” and she vanished.

On the floor where she had been standing were her clothes in a neat little pile. Her hat rested on top and her shoes were at the bottom of the pile.

I lit a cigarette and watched the effect on the morgue attendant with interest.

He got up deliberately and peered at the pile of clothes with glassy eyes.

“Astonishing how little these girls wear,” I said chattily, “just a handful of silk here and a wisp of silk there and yet they look marvellous.”

“Where is she?” he whispered, clawing at his throat.

“In the morgue by now,” I said, “but, she’ll be back.”

He gave a long sigh and fell down behind the counter. I didn’t blame him. It was a shock for a guy his age.

I left him there and ran round the counter. As I reached the head of the stairs that led to the morgue I saw Doc Ansell come stumbling up.

I ran down and grabbed him, “Doc!” I cried, “am I glad to see you!”

“Take care of him while I dress,” Myra’s voice said, “he’s still a little dazed.”

“Don’t hold that against me,” Doc said, gripping my hand, “I’ve had a very trying experience.”

The morgue attendant still lay behind the counter, but as we passed he sat up and peered at us.

“You won’t want this stiff any more,” I said to him. “I’m going to take it away and buy it a meal.”

Myra flashed into her clothes.

“Come on, Doc,” she said, slipping her arm through his, “let’s get out of here.”

As we went out, the morgue attendant gave a low wail and collapsed once more on the floor.

Chapter NINTEEN

I REALLY don’t think that I need keep you any longer. If you have read this far you’ll probably be like Maddox who never could bring himself to believe my story and if I hadn’t left New York, I’m sure he would have shanghaied me into a nut house.

The only defence I offer is that strange things do happen. I’m not suggesting that you should believe everything you read or hear, but if you make a habit of doubting everything you will miss much of the fun in life.

It was nice to have Doc Ansell with us again. It was nice for me to have Myra without Arym and to know that she wouldn’t suddenly shoot into the air or vanish without warning. She meant a lot to me and if I’d had to have her with her black magic, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But after the new moon she settled down to normal life again.

There was no trouble in getting Bogle out of jail. Summers was so pleased to have Kruger and his mob on ice that he was willing to give way of a small matter like releasing Sam.

I cannot close this story without telling you what happen to Whisky. The police rescued him from Peppj and held him for us. At midnight as we were hurrying with Doc to the police headquarters, there was a sudden uproar in the room where they had put Whisky. On going in they found Whisky trying to gnaw an immensely fat Mexican Who had mysteriously appeared out of thin air.

The Mexican had been so abusive and violent that the police kept him for us to see. You can imagine our feelings when Pablo was brought in, looking as if he could make mincemeat of us all.

Yes, Pablo had come back. He wasn’t any nicer and I can’t say I blamed him. To have been turned into a sausage and then eaten by a large wolfhound is a pretty harrowing experienced. He was inclined to blame Myra and me for it, and I felt, that if he were at large, he might resort to his horn trick some dark night when we weren’t expecting him.

I had a word with Summers and he sent Pablo back to Mexico under an armed escort. There, he was handed over to Mexican authorities who put a rope around his neck and strung him several feet into the air.

I never liked Pablo anyway.

Now that his influence had been removed from Whisky the dog was unable to talk. We regretted this because Whisky had been a sensible kind of dog and he invariably had a number of sensible things to say.

At first, Whisky was depressed because he couldn’t express himself, but, fortunately, he ran into a lady dog who took to him and they settled down quite happily together.

Myra and I decided to set up home on the Pacific coast. This decision was largely influenced by finding among Myra’s clothes twenty-four thousand-dollar bills. It was the reward that Arym had hidden on the night she met me for the first time on the stairs, three days after we had arrived in New York.

It seemed a waste of good money to return the money to Maddox. He had plenty of his own and we could use it to advantage ourselves. Besides, Maddox never really forgave me and as he spent much of his time making inquiries about lunatic asylums, it seemed safer to have a change of air.

Doc set himself up once again as a herbalist and Sam helped him. They insisted on sharing our house. It seemed only right to have them after all we had been through together and we invited Whisky and his lady friend to join us.

It is an odd thing, but I never did meet Myra’s father. We heard he had married a midget from a travelling circus, but we never had confirmation of this. Anyway, he dropped out of Myra’s life which was a good thing. I had enough on hand without having a midget for a mother-in-law.

I found a profitable market as a short-story writer and Myra was busy preparing for Ross Milan junior.

I always wanted a son. And, after the inevitable alarming span of months, a son arrived. He was a nice-looking kid, more like his mother than me. We were all crazy about him.

On the face of it, it looked like we had finished with black magic, policemen and hoodlums and were all set for a nice quiet trip to old age, but it didn’t work out like that.

One Sunday morning I was sitting at my desk trying to invent a situation for a story, when a sudden wild scream brought me to my feet. Throwing down my pen, I rushed into the garden.

Myra, Doc and Sam were staring into the sky with horrified expressions.

I followed their gaze and my reason almost crumbled.

Thirty feet or so in the air sat Ross Millan junior. He waved his toy Mickey Mouse excitedly when he saw me.

“Look, Pop,” he shouted happily, “I’m flying!”