aDonat letas talk about it,a Julie said. aItas paid, and Iave forgotten it. So, please, Harry.a Harry began to pace up and down.
aJulie, canat we run away together?a he asked abruptly. aMust we go on taking these risks? Itas not as if heas married to you.a She paused with one stocking on and the other in her hand, her eyes wary.
aWhat would happen to us? Nickas so powerful. Iad never get another engagement, and youad never get another job. He would see to that. Heas so ruthless and possessive. Head find us, and head make our lives miserable for the rest of our days. Letas be patient, Harry. Letas be thankful we can see each other like this from time to time. Something may turn up. Donat let us do anything silly and dangerous.a aBut this is even more dangerous,a Harry said. aWeare cheating him now, but if we went away together, he couldnat accuse us of that.a aHe would find us, Harry. He would never let me go.a aHeas not G.o.d,a Harry said. aI know heas pretty powerful, but d.a.m.n it! He couldnat stop me earning a living. Thatas nonsense, Julie.a Julie slipped into her dress, put on her shoes and crossed over to the dressing table. She sat down and began to make up her face.
aSay something Julie,a Harry said anxiously. aDonat you see this is even more dangerous than going away?a She turned and faced him.
aAll right, Harry, Iall tell you the truth. For weeks now I knew we should have told Nick and gone away together, but I canat face it. I canat give up all the things that mean so much to me. I donat suppose youave ever thought what it means to me to have Nick behind me. If it wasnat for Nick I wouldnat be singing at the best nightclub in town. I wouldnat have that lovely penthouse or all the clothes Iave got. I wouldnat have accounts at all the big stores. I wouldnat be able to buy what I like when I like without thinking of where the money is coming from. I wouldnat have all the important men in town fawning round me wherever I go. I wouldnat have the car Iave got. If I walked out on Nick, Iad walk into a different life, and I wouldnat like it.a Harry winced and sat down. He stared into the fire, his right fist grinding into the palm of his left hand.
aI see,a he said in a flat, tired voice. aNo, I hadnat thought of it quite like that Julie.a aI want my cake and I want to eat it,a Julie said, not looking at him. aI love you, Harry, more than any other man on earth. Sometimes I wish I had never met you. I wish I had never fallen in love with you. It would have saved so much pain and worry and cheating. But I did meet you and I did fall in love with you, so there it is. You have got to take me as I am or leave me. Now you know the truth, Harry, youad better tell me if you want to see me again. I wouldnat blame you if you now hate the sight of me, as I hate the sight of myself. I know Iam selfish, grasping and dishonest. Iam the worst kind of a b.i.t.c.h, but I canat help it. I would do anything for you, except give up the life Nick gives me. I donat suppose youad believe that, but I would. I would even keep away from you if you wanted me to, and that would be the hardest thing of all Iad do for you.a Harry got up and went over to her; bending, he lifted her face and kissed her.
aIam not going to give you up, Julie. You mean too much to me for that. All right, darling, weall go on as weave gone on. Perhaps one day, something will turn up, and we can be together for good.a He forced a little laugh. aWho knows? One of these days I may be as rich and as powerful as English is. If he could do it, why canat I?a Julie got to her feet and clung to him.
aDarling Harry, I love you so, and Iall try to make you happy. Be patient. Iam sure itall come right in the end. Now, darling, I must go. Iall come again as soon as I can. Get my coat, will you? Iam going to be late if I donat hurry.a A few minutes later, Julie moved quietly to the mouth of the alley and looked quickly to the right and left. The street was deserted. Moving forward briskly, she went in search of a taxi.
In a dark doorway, a youngish man in a brown suit and a brown slouch hat, stood with his back against the wall, watching her, his jaws moving slowly as he chewed. He remained in the shadows until she was out of sight, then he came out of the doorway, and walked quickly toward the river, his lips pursed in a soundless whistle.
II.
Ed Leon took possession of the Alert Agency two days after English had summoned him from Chicago. Leon was tall and rangy, all legs and arms, and he had a deceptive appearance that led most people to a.s.sume that he was a harmless dimwit. He had a pleasant suntanned face, and at first glance you might have mistaken him for a not too prosperous farmer up for the day to see the sights of the city. He wore his clothes as if he had slept in them, not for one night, but for many nights, and he had a habit of wearing an old battered slouch hat far at the back of his head. His hair, naturally unruly, had everything its own way as he made no attempt to control it except to have it cut on rare occasions and to pa.s.s a comb through it when he could find a comb, which wasnat often.
No one would have believed that he was one of the smartest private investigators in the country. Beginning life as a crime reporter, he had showed so much talent for ferreting out news concerning the criminal activities of politicians and their ilk that the district attorney decided that he would be less of a nuisance working in his office than for a newspaper. He persuaded Leon to become a special investigator attached to his office, and for a time Leon did excellent work to the satisfaction of the D.A., but at little profit to himself.
Leon met English soon after English had sold his gyroscope compa.s.s, and they had become friends. Leon had suggested that English might consider financing him so he could set up his own agency. English knew Leonas reputation, and thought the investment might turn out to be a sound one. He backed Leon, and after a couple of years, Leon was able to buy English out with a handsome profit to them both. His agency was now one of the most efficient in Chicago, and before three years had pa.s.sed, Leon was employing four investigators, three legmen and a bevy of smart young women.
As he wandered around the small, shabby office that had once belonged to Roy English, Leon wasnat overly pleased that he had allowed himself to be talked into taking this a.s.signment by English. Of course the money was good, but he didnat relish spending much time in these two rooms after the luxury of his air conditioned office in Chicago.
He pulled at his long nose thoughtfully as he wandered around the room, his face thoughtful, his eyes missing nothing. He spent the next two hours going through the files, examining drawers and cupboards with the methodical care he had developed after years of experience that had taught him nothing was unimportant, that there was a reason for everything, and that if you kept looking, sooner or later you would find something to interest you.
It was not until he examined the fireplace that he made any worthwhile discovery. He found a small object lodged in the chimney that made him raise his heavy eyebrows and take from his pocket a pencil-thin flashlight. He played the beam on the object, and saw it was a small, but highly sensitive microphone. The wires attached to it went through a crack in the chimney and into the outer office. He strolled into the outer office, and after a lengthy search, found the wires again, neatly hidden between the floorboards, and traced them across the room to the door leading into the pa.s.sage. He returned to his office and washed the soot and grime off his hands while he whistled happily under his breath.
He decided he had made a fair beginning. Someone was interested in listening to any conversation that might take place in this office. From the look of the microphone it had been installed for some time. Someone therefore had wanted to know what Roy English had been doing, what he had said, and what had been said to him.
Leon wondered if the microphone was still alive, and if this someone would be interested to listen in to his conversations. At a more convenient time a" when the building was closed for the night - he decided he would make an attempt to trace the wires further. But not during office hours.
English had told him the janitor, Tom Calhoun, seemed cooperative, and Leon thought it might be an idea to go down and talk to him before settling down to a dayas work in the office.
He left the office, locking the door behind him, and took the elevator to the bas.e.m.e.nt.
He found Tom Calhoun in the boiler room industriously carving a model boat from a chunk of soft wood, and with the aid of a murderous looking pocketknife.
Calhoun was big and fat with a heavy moustache that reminded Leon of a bunch of dry seaweed. He wore a dusty Derby set square on his bullet head, and he had some interesting looking food stains on his vest which he wore open and held together by a heavy gold watch chain. He eyed Leon with mild interest and gave him a brief nod.
aMorning,a he said. aAnything I can do for you?a Leon hooked a chair toward him and folded his long length into it. aI got an ulcer,a he said. aAt noon every day I give it a feed of whisky. The trouble is I donat approve of drinking alone. Once a guy gets into the habit of secret drinking he might just as well step into his box and let them screw him down. I thought maybe you might care to join me, but if youare a non-drinking man, just say the word and Iall go elsewhere.a Calhoun laid down the boat and sat forward.
aYouave come to the right man, mister, but I wouldnat have thought whisky would have done an ulcer much good.a Leon produced a half-pint flask of Johnny Walker and waved it in the air. aA guy has got to show his independence,a he said. aIf I gave my ulcer what was good for it, itad stay with me for the rest of my days. The whiskyas good for me so I drink it. Got a gla.s.s? Two might be an idea.a Calhoun produced two paper cups from a shelf.
aBest I can do,a he said apologetically, after blowing the dust from them. He watched Leon pour two liberal shots, and eagerly took one of the cups and sniffed it. aGood whisky, mister. Your very best health,a and he took a long pull, sighed, smacked his lips, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the cup down.
Leon scarcely tasted his, but leaned forward to refill Calhounas cup.
aIam your new tenant,a he said. aThe nameas Ed Leon. Iave taken over the Alert Agency.a Calhoun looked surprised.
aGlad to know you. Iam Tom Calhoun. Alert Agency, huh? Thatas fast work.a aMy mother was a fast woman,a Leon said lightly. aIt runs in the family.a He frowned, shook his head, went on, aBusiness seems a little flat this morning. No oneas been near me.a aItall pick up,a Calhoun said encouragingly, and took another drink. aI reckon that guy English knew what he was doing. He kept mighty busy. Why he shot himself beats me. Of course that shooting might damp things down for you, but not for long.a Leon took out two cigarettes, rolled one across the table and lit the other.
aI was beginning to wonder if I had been sold a pup. With a face like mine, people treat me like I was a dog catcher.a He shook his head gloomily. aMan! If you knew the pups some guys have tried to swing on me! You really think thatas good business?a aIam certain sure of it,a Calhoun said. aIt stands to reason. Look at the people who went up there to see him, as many as thirty people on some days; if that ainat brisk business then Iam a monkeyas uncle.a Leon regarded him with a kindly smile.
aNot as bad as that, pally - maybe not his uncle, but as stepfather youare doing all right.a aWhat was that?a Calhoun asked, his bloodshot eyes popping.
aNothing. I was talking through my hat. See these?a He took off his hat and pointed to the ventilation holes in the crown, stubbing at them with a long finger. aI had those put in so people could hear me better - deaf people, that is. Itas ideas like that that make a guy a fortune.a aI guess thatas right,a Calhoun said, looking a little dazed.
aWell, well,a Leon went on and lifted his feet onto the table. aMind if I get some blood up to my head? If I donat do this some time during the day, Iam likely to pa.s.s out. My mother was the same. Come to that my old man hadnat much in his head either. So it looks like Iave come into a good business. Who were these people who came to see English?a Calhoun lifted his big, lumpy shoulders.
aI wouldnat know. Some of them would come every week. Some of them were trash, but most of them looked as if they had a sack of dough.a aWere you in the building when he knocked himself off? Leon asked casually and leaned forward to fill Calhounas paper cup again.
aSure,a Calhoun said. aGo easy on that stuff, mister. Itas got a lot of authority.a aDonat tell me a big boy like you canat drink a little Scotch,a Leon said. aThey tell me he shot himself between nine and ten-thirty. Did anyone call on him around that time?a aThree people went up to the sixth floor. But I wouldnat know if they called on him. Why?a aIam always asking questions,a Leon said, and closed his eyes. aI like the sound of my own voice. Whatas Sinatra got that I havenat? You should see the way the frills fall over when I whisper in their ears. You donat have to sing to get a frill in a tizzy. He opened his eyes and stared at Calhoun. Who were these three?a aTwo guys and a girl,a Calhoun told him. aI took them up to the sixth floor myself. Iave seen the girl before, but not the two guys.a aWho else is on the sixth floor?a aWell, thereas the a.s.sociated News Service. Maybe youave already heard their teleprinters. h.e.l.l of a racket they make. Then thereas your office, and then thereas Miss Windsor.a aWhatas she do?a aSheas what they call a silhouette artist,a Calhoun told him. aShe cuts out your silhouette in paper, mounts and frames it. What else she does up there I donat ask, but I do know she has only men clients.a Leon perked up, his eyes showing interest.
aLike that, is it? he said. aAnd my next door neighbour. Well, well, maybe Iad better go along and let her look at my silhouette. She might even show me hers.a aSheas a nice dish,a Calhoun said, abut itas strictly for cash. Me - I prefer to waste my money on horses, but it takes all types to make up the world.a aDonat go philosophical on me,a Leon said. aLetas get back to these two guys and the girl. They could have called on either Miss Windsor, this News Service or English - that right?a aThe girl went to see English,a Calhoun said. aIave seen her a number of times before.a aWhatas she look like?a Calhoun sipped his Scotch and eyed Leon doubtfully.
aYouare asking an awful lot of questions, mister. What makes you so interested?a aNow look, let me do the talking. Youave got the Scotch, so try to make yourself useful.a Calhoun shrugged.
aWell, okay, itas no skin off my nose. She had sort of light brown hair, a good figure, and she was pretty enough to be in the movies.a aWhat a description! Do you realise there are two million frills within a thirty-mile radius of this d.a.m.n city who look just like that? How was she dressed?a aShe was pretty smart,a Calhoun said, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his eyes as if trying to create a picture of the girl in his mind. aShe wore a black coat and skirt with wide white lapels, black and white gauntlet gloves and a black and white skullcap affair for a hat. And she had one of those charm bracelets. You know the ones, a gold chain with little charms hanging from it.a Leon nodded approvingly.
aNow youare talking. Thatas fine. Youall make a detective yet. How about the two guys?a aOne of them was just a punk, a kid about eighteen. He had on a leather jacket and flannel trousers. He had a parcel under his arm. I have an idea he was going to the News Service, but the other one was in the money. He was a youngish fella, around twenty-seven or eight, in a brown suit and a brown slouch hat. I noticed he wore his handkerchief in his sleeve - a nice touch, that.
If ever I could lay my hands on a clean handkerchief, thatas where Iad wear it. He was chewing gum, and I thought at the time he was letting himself down. When a guy can afford clothes like that, he shouldnat chew gum.a Leon sighed.
aYou should write a book on etiquette. Thereas a big market for a book thatad tell you not to chew gum in a brown suit.a He lowered his feet to the floor. aJust to get the record straight, when did these people arrive - who came first?a aThe girl, then the guy in the leather jerkin, then the guy in the brown suit.a aWhat time did the girl arrive?a aIt was nine-fifty,a Calhoun said. aI know because she asked me the time.a aAnd the other two?a aThe fella in the leather jacket was waiting to go up as I came down from taking the girl up. The guy in the brown suit came along about fifteen minutes later.a aDid you see any of them leave?a Calhoun shook his head.
aI take them up, but I donat reckon to bring them down. Thatas what theyave got legs for.a aI guess thatas right,a Leon said and stood up. aThe automatic elevator wasnat working?a aI lock it up at seven oaclock. I like to know who comes into the building after that time.a Leon nodded again.
aWell, thatas very interesting. Youad better keep whatas left of that half-pint. If I took it up with me Iad be laying myself open to temptation. I guess Iad better go along and call on Miss Windsor. Nothing like being neighbourly. Who knows? She might even be lonely.a aIf that dameas ever lonely, then Iam Judy Garlandas mother,a Calhoun said. aAnd watch it. Itas strictly for cash.a Leon propelled his lanky frame to the door.
aNot for me, brother,a he said, pausing at the door. aIam going to explain to her the principles of lease-lend, and he continued on his way to the elevator.
III.
As Leon stepped out of the elevator, he saw a short, shabby-looking man in a wrinkled blue overcoat and a dusty grey hat, knocking on his office door. The shabby man looked quickly over his shoulder as he heard the grill close. He was a man of about sixty, grey-faced, tired-looking with a scrubby, grey moustache. He looked uneasily at Leon as he wandered along the pa.s.sage, then he rapped on the door again, and turned the handle. Finding the door locked, he backed away, obviously surprised, and in two minds what he should do.
ah.e.l.lo, pally,a Leon said, coming to rest beside the shabby man. aLooking for me?a The shabby man gave Leon a startled look, and backed against the banister rail.
aNo, thank you,a he said. aIt wasnat you I was looking for. I wanted to see Mr. English. Never mind. Iall come again. He doesnat seem to be in.a aMaybe I can do something,a Leon said. aIam looking after Mr. Englishas affairs at the moment.a He took out his door key and pushed it into the lock. aCome on in. Itas all right,a the shabby man returned, and his tired, bloodshot eyes showed alarm.
aI wanted to see Mr. English. Itas a personal matter. Thanks all the same,a and turning, he walked hurriedly toward the head of the stairs.
Leon started after him, then stopped as he remembered the hidden microphone in his office. That room wasnat the place in which to persuade someone to talk. He turned and made quickly for the elevator, stepped into it and sent the cage down to the ground floor.
As he stepped into the lobby, he could hear the shabby man running down the stairs. He had one more flight to go before he reached the lobby. Moving quickly, Leon went into the street and took up a position in a nearby shop doorway.
He watched the shabby man come out into the spring sunshine and set off along the street. He moved slowly, his feet dragging, and walked for some time toward 22nd Ward.
Leon moved along behind him, taking care to keep out of sight. He saw the shabby man pause outside a cafe, hesitate, then walk in. As Leon pa.s.sed the cafe, he glanced in. There were only three or four people in the cafe and he spotted the shabby man sitting at a table at the far end of the room.
Leon waited a few seconds, then pushed open the door and walked in. The shabby man glanced up, but didnat seem to recognize Leon. He was stirring a cup of coffee aimlessly, his face frowning and his eyes worried. Leon inspected the other people in the cafe. There were two men at a table by the door, a girl reading a paperback book at a table near the counter, and a man hidden behind an open newspaper at the end of the room on the opposite side to where the shabby man was sitting.
Leon sat down at the shabby manas table. The shabby man looked up and stared at him. Recognition swam into his eyes, and his face went a greyisha"white. He half started up, then dropped back onto his chair, nearly upsetting his coffee as he did so.
aKeep your clothes on,a Leon said and smiled. aIam not going to bite you.a He turned and waved to the girl behind the counter. aBring me a cup of Java, honey, and put some coffee in the water, will you?a The girl poured the coffee, flounced over and slapped the cup down in front of him.
aIall have you know we serve the best coffee on the street,a she said. aIf you donat like it, you can go elsewhere.a aThanks, honey,a Leon said, and smiled his slow, lazy smile. aMaybe Iall just rinse my hands in it.a She tossed her head and returned to the counter where she watched him, her eyes angry.
aNo sense of humour,a Leon said to the shabby man. aWell, well, canat always expect to get a laugh. What did you want to see English about?a The shabby man ran his tongue over his dry lips.
aSee here, mister,a he said with feeble fierceness. aYou have no right to follow me. Mr. English and me have a private deal on. Itas nothing to do with you or anyone.a aIt is to do with me,a Leon said. aIave taken over the business. English isnat with us anymore.a The shabby man stared at him.
aI wasnat told,a he muttered. aIave got nothing to say to you.a aIam telling you,a Leon said, stirring his coffee. aIam in charge now. Come on, whatas it all about?a aYou mean youare taking the money in the future?a aDonat I keep telling you?a Leon said roughly. aWhat do you want me to do, set it to music and sing it to you?a aWhereas Mr. English then?a aHeas gone to a warmer climate. Are you going to deal with me or do you want to get tough?a aThatas all right,a the shabby man said hurriedly. aI just didnat know.a He took out a soiled envelope and slid it across the table. aHere it is. Now Iave got to go.a aSit still!a Leon snapped, and picked up the envelope. On it was scribbled: From Joe Hennessey. $10.
aAre you Hennessey?a he asked.
The shabby man nodded.
Leon ripped open the envelope and took out two five-dollar bills. He studied Hennessey for a long moment.
aWhatas this in aid of?a he asked at last.
aWhat do you mean? Itas all right, isnat it?a aMaybe. I wouldnat know. What are you giving me this for?a Hennesseyas face began to glisten with sweat.
aGive me back that money!a he said, keeping his voice low. aI knew you were a phoney. Give it back to me!a Leon slid the money across the table.
aDonat spill your milk. I donat want it,a he said soothingly. aI just want to know why youare parting with this dough. From the look of you, you canat afford to give ten bucks away.a aI canat!a Hennessey said bitterly. He stared at the two bills lying before him, not touching them. aIam not going to talk to you! I donat know who you are.a He began to push back his chair.
aTake it easy,a Leon said, and flicked one of his cards onto the table. aThatas who I am, pally, and I can help you if youall let me.a aA copper!a Hennessey said when he had looked at the card. His eyes went dark with alarm. aNo, thank you. Thereas nothing you can do for me, mister. Iall be getting along.a aSit still!a Leon said, and, leaning forward, went on, aEnglish is dead. He shot himself three nights ago. Donat you read the newspapers?a Hennessey stiffened, his fists clenched and his mouth fell open.
aI donat believe it!a aI canat help that. It was in the papers,a Leon said, and half turning in his chair, he spotted a pile of newspapers on a table. aMaybe the account is in one of these.a He got up and went over to the newspapers, shuffled through them, found what he wanted and brought it over to the table. He dropped it in front of Hennessey and sat down again.
Hennessey read the account, his breath whistling through his nostrils. Then when he had finished, he dropped the newspaper on the floor and drew in a long, deep breath. The look of fear went out of his eyes like the light in a window when the blind is drawn.
aSo heas really dead,a he muttered under his breath. aI wouldnat have believed it. It sounds too good to be true.a aHeas dead all right,a Leon said. aNow listen to me. Iam investigating his death. You can help me. Why are you paying him money?a Hennessey hesitated, then shook his head.
aItas nothing to do with you, mister,a he said. aThe less said about it the better. I think Iall be getting along now.a aWait a minute,a Leon said, his voice hardening. aDo you want me to take you down to the station? You could be held as a material witness. Youad better talk, and talk fast. English was murdered!a Hennessey went white again.
aIt says he shot himself.a aNever mind what it says. Iam telling you he was murdered. Why were you paying him money?a aHe was blackmailing me,a Hennessey blurted out. aIave paid him ten dollars a week for eleven months, and if he hadnat died I would have gone on paying him.a aWhat had he got on you?a Hennessey hesitated, then he said, aSomething I did years ago, something bad. He was going to tell my wife.a aWere all the other people who called on English paying blackmail money? Leon asked.
aI guess so. I never talked to any of them, but Iave seen the same faces every time I went to that office. Why else should they go and talk to a rat like English?a Leon took out two cigarettes and rolled one of them across the table. He lit his and held the match so Hennessey could light his. This was news Nick wouldnat be glad to hear, Leon thought as he flicked out the match.
aKnow who any of them are?a he asked.
aThereas a girl who lives on my street. Iave seen her leaving Englishas office.a aWhatas her name and address?a aI donat know if I should tell you that. I wouldnat want to get her into trouble.a aShe wonat get into trouble. I just want to check on your story. Youave got to tell me, Hennessey. Youave gone too far to stop talking now.a aI donat know what you mean!a Hennessey bl.u.s.tered. aI donat reckon Iam going to talk anymore.a aYouare kidding yourself,a Leon said quietly. aEnglish was murdered. Youave got a motive for killing him. Youave got to talk to me or to the police - please yourself.a Hennessey wiped his sweating face.
aHer nameas May Mitch.e.l.l. She lives at 23A Eastern Street.a aNow weare getting somewhere,a Leon said. aHow did English contact you?a aA fella came to my shop. He told me he knew about what Iad done, and if I didnat pay ten dollars a week he would tell my wife. He told me to take the money every Thursday to the Alert Agency, and thatas what I did.a aIt wasnat English?a Hennessey shook his head.
aNo, but English took the money. This other fella was the outside man. I reckon English was the boss.a aWhat was this fella like?a aA big tough-looking guy. He had a nasty scar from his right ear to his mouth - looked like an old razor wound - and he had a cast in his left eye. He was big and powerful - not the kind of fella youad argue with.a aLetas have your address,a Leon said. aI might want to talk to you again.a aIam at 27 Eastern Street.a aOkay, pally, now relax. Youare okay. Thereas nothing for you to worry about. English is dead. Go home and forget about him and blackmail. Forget it ever happened.a aYou mean I donat have to pay any more money?a Leon reached out and patted his arm.
aNo. If the tough guy shows up, stall him and tell me. Iall take care of him, and Iall see youare in the clear. Thatas a promise.a Hennessey got slowly to his feet. He looked suddenly five years younger.
aYou donat know what this means to me,a he said, a break in his voice. aTen dollars was skinning me. The wife and I couldnat even go to the movies, and all the time I had to tell her lies about how badly the business was doing.a aConsider it taken care of,a Leon said. aIam here to help you if you want help, and listen, I donat promise anything, but I may be able to get some of your money back for you. Ten dollars a week for eleven months, was that it?a Hennessey stared at him as if he couldnat believe his ears.
aYes, thatas right,a he said hoa.r.s.ely.
aDonat count on it,a Leon said, abut Iall see what I can do.a He got up, went over to the counter and paid for the two coffees.
aYou havenat drunk yours,a the girl pointed out, s.n.a.t.c.hing the dollar bill he offered her.
aIave got a fussy ulcer,a Leon returned, tipping his hat. aCoffee like that would start a battle in my gut that even the Secretary of State wouldnat be able to smooth over. But thanks for the chair. Iall come again when I want to rest my feet.a He went out into the street, followed by Hennessey.
The man who had been sitting at the table near Hennesseyas and who had been hidden behind a newspaper, lowered the paper and looked after Leon, his jaws moving rhythmically as he chewed. He put the paper aside and got up, crossed over to the counter and gave the girl a couple of nickels.
She smiled warmly at him, impressed by his faultlessly fitting brown suit and the silk handkerchief he wore tucked in his sleeve. He looked at her and her smile faltered. She had never seen such eyes. They were amber coloured with small pupils and the whites were the colour of blue-white porcelain. They were as compelling and as expressionless as the eyes of an owl, and looking into them, she felt a little chill run up her spine. He watched her reaction with cat-like interest, then turned and moved briskly to the door.
He stood looking after Leon and Hennessey as they walked down the street together. Then he ran across the road to where a dusty, shabby Packard was parked. He got into the car, started the engine and waited. He watched Hennessey and Leon pause for a moment at the corner. Leon shook hands with Hennessey, and then went off up town. Hennessey walked away in the opposite direction.
The man in the brown suit shifted into gear and sent the car rolling slowly after Hennessey.
Hennessey walked with a light step. He was anxious to get back to his shop. It wasnat much of a shop, but it provided a fair living for his wife and himself, although the business wouldnat run to any hired help.
Hennesseyas wife had a bad heart, and he was anxious to get back so he could take over and let her sit down for a while. He stepped out, swinging his short arms, his mind seething as he thought of what Leon had said.
I donat promise anything, but I may be able to get some of your money back for you.
Even if he got only a quarter back - and now that he no longer had to payout ten dollars a week - he would be able to afford an a.s.sistant and let his wife take it a bit easier.
The man in the brown suit drove along near the curb, his amber-coloured eyes fixed on Hennesseyas distant back, his jaws moving as he chewed. He drove patiently, keeping out of the way of the faster traffic, and every now and then he looked searchingly at the number of the shops as if he were hunting for a particular number to explain his slow crawl.
At the end of the street there was a narrow alley, a shortcut to Eastern Street. It was an alley dwarfed by high warehouses, and even in daylight it was shadowy and dark. Few people used it, but to save his legs, Hennessey always went home that way.
The man in the brown suit knew this and he accelerated slightly as he saw Hennessey cross the street to enter the alley. As Hennessey began to walk down the long, narrow alley he heard a car behind him, and looking round sharply saw the Packard swing into the alley. No cars ever came this way. The alley was far too narrow. There was only a foot clearance on each side of the caras wings. Hennessey realized the car was coming after him, and fear clutched at his heart, for a moment paralyzing him.
He stood in the middle of the alley, hesitating, looking frantically to the right and left. Ahead of him, some two hundred paces, was an archway, leading to a courtyard. The archway was too narrow for a car, but a haven for him. He began to run toward the archway, his old blue overcoat flapping and his breath rattling at the back of his throat. He was too old and stiff to make much headway, but he did his best.
The man in the brown suit pushed down on the gas pedal and sent the Packard surging forward. For a few seconds the running, stumbling man and the swiftly moving car seemed to remain equidistant. Hennessey looked over his shoulder. He saw the car rushing down on him. He cried out in fear and desperation as he made a frantic effort to reach the archway. He was within ten yards of it when the car hit him.
It hit him the way a charging bull hits a matador. It threw him high into the air and forward so he came down on his back within a few yards of the car.
The man in the brown suit trod on his brake and stopped the car within a yard of Hennessey, who turned his head to stare at the car, seeing only the two wheels and the dusty hood. A thin trickle of blood ran out of his mouth and he felt a terrible pain tearing at his chest.
The man in the brown suit glanced into the driving mirror. He could see the dim length of the alley stretching out behind him. It was empty and silent. He engaged gear and reversed the car, stopping it when it was some twenty to thirty feet from where Hennessey was lying, then he shifted the gear-stick into second, let in the clutch and sent the car forward slowly, leaning out of the window so he could see what he was doing.
Hennessey screamed wildly as the car came toward him. He tried to crawl out of the way, but the effort was too much for him.