MacAlpine said: "I think George can take care of the receiving end. I've got to be in court in an hour. You go with him, George, and I'll get in touch with you."
At the street level, Grogan's lawyer pleaded that he too had business. After another round of handshakes he left them.
Ethelbert said: "Where do you live, Mr. Grogan?" And when Grogan told him: "Have you got the truck here?"
"No," said Grogan shortly.
"Well, how far is this place? Couple of miles? We can walk it easy."
"But —"
"Come along; you show me the way."
Grogan subsided and led Ethelbert zigzag across downtown Chicago on the edge of the Loop district. They reached a small apartment hotel.
"You wait out here," said Grogan.
"If you don't mind I'll wait inside," said Ethelbert. "People stare so if I stand in the street."
"All right."
Grogan went into the lobby, and Ethelbert followed after, the sight of him causing the switchboard girl to swallow her gum. Grogan disappeared into the elevator. Ethelbert waited.
He waited some more.
Finally he asked the elevator operator: "Say, mister, you got a telephone I can call Mr. Grogan's apartment on?"
"Yeah," said the operator, approaching him in gingerly fashion. "You use this handset and push this button here."
Ethelbert pushed the button and held the receiver to his ear. He pushed it again. Nothing happened.
"You sure this is the right button?" he asked the operator.
"Yeah," said the latter, checking.
Ethelbert tried again without success, then said: "How about taking me up to Mr. Grogan's floor?"
"Uh. I don't think our elevator's made to carry so much weight."
"How many is it made to carry?"
The operator looked at the license posted inside the elevator. "Eight."
"Well, I only weigh as much as six of you shrimps, so let me in."
As Ethelbert, bending almost double, squeezed into the car, the operator protested feebly: "Hey, there ain't room for me!"
"That's all right; you can still work your little buttons. Now take me up to Mr. Grogan's floor."
Ethelbert rang the buzzer on Grogan's door, with no results. He called: "Hey, Mr. Grogan!" and knocked. Silence.
Finally he drew back his fist and dealt a real wallop to the door, which flew open with a rending of wood.
The apartment showed the disorder of a hurried departure. When he had satisfied himself that Grogan was not there, Ethelbert came back to the elevator. "You got a telephone I could call outside with?"
"Sure," said the operator. "On the ground floor."
"You ain't seen Mr. Grogan come down since he went up?"
"Nope."
"Is there any other way out — a back stairs, like?"
"Nope. Just this elevator and that there stairs."
Back to earth, Ethelbert telephoned the training field and got Day. After telling of the day's happenings, he ended: "— so the guy has disappeared. What do you suppose he's doing?"
Day replied: "Sounds to me like he's absconded with all the club's money. I've been suspicious he might try something like that if it got too hot for him. You stay there and watch for him, and I'll be right over with a cop and a warrant."
Left to ponder, Ethelbert wondered whether to search the whole apartment house. No, that wouldn't do; you couldn't go busting into people's apartments unless you were a policeman or something. Besides, while he was searching thus, Grogan might sneak past him and down the stairs.
While Ethelbert lounged uneasily in the entrance to the building, a whirr of rotors above the street noises made him look up to see a helicopter glide out of sight over the top of his own building.
Instantly he knew where Grogan was. He dashed in to the elevator, nearly stepping on one of the tenants who was on his way out to walk his dog. The dog yipped and wound his leash around its master's legs, while Ethelbert squeezed into the elevator again and bellowed: "All the way up, you!"
"Now," he said when they had arrived at the top of the shaft, "how do you get out onto the roof?"
"Through ... uh ... through that little d-door there," said the operator, pointing.
The little door was open but too small for Ethelbert, who burst out on the roof, bringing most of the door frame with him. The helicopter hovered a few feet above the surface of the roof. Oliver Grogan was handing a suitcase up to the pilot.
"Hey!" roared Ethelbert, squinting against the gale of the rotor.
Grogan skinned up the short ladder like a frightened monkey. The door of the craft closed behind him. The helicopter began to rise.
Ethelbert looked around for some means of stopping it. There were no loose objects on the roof. The nearest projection was the upper end of an iron standpipe.
Ethelbert seized the top of the standpipe in both hands and grunted. The pipe broke off with a sharp .sound, and Ethelbert threw the two-foot length at the main rotor.
The missile hit with a clank and a splitting sound. The helicopter, with a shattered rotor blade, teetered and crashed to the roof, crumpling its undercarriage. As it fell, the door flew open and Grogan and his suitcase popped out. The suitcase in turn burst open as it hit the roof, spilling out shirts and socks and a couple of large wads of currency held together with rubber bands. Grogan rolled over, picked himself up, and sprinted for the edge of the roof.
Ethelbert lumbered after him. At the low wall along the edge, Grogan hesitated. He looked at the pavement ten stories below, then at Ethelbert, and jumped.
Ethelbert, coming up, shot out a long arm and caught Grogan's ankle. He hauled Grogan back to the roof, muttering:
"Fool, I wasn't gonna hurt you none."
"Hey," said another voice. It was the pilot of the helicopter, who had just freed himself from the wreckage. "What's the idea? What goes on? I just come to take this guy to the airport, like he 'phoned us to do —"
"Stay where you are, buddy," said Ethelbert. "This passenger of yours is a criminal embezzler or something."
"But that's no cause to bust my machine. You'll hear from the Victory Air Cab Service about this —"
They were still arguing when Day came through the door with a policeman.
Three days later, George Ethelbert arrived in court to testify against Oliver Grogan in his preliminary hearing on the charge of embezzlement. Grogan was led in. While they were waiting for the judge, Grogan called over to Ethelbert:
"Hey, George!"
"Yeah, Mr. Grogan?"
"Thanks for saving my life."
"Oh, shucks, that wasn't nothing."
"Sure it was. After I got to thinking I figured a guy is a sap to bump himself just on account of a little money trouble."
"Sure," said Ethelbert.
"And you won't have to testify against me after all. I'm gonna plead guilty."
"What?"
"Yeah. Been thinking. Between my ex-wives and creditors and those lugs I lost dough to gambling, I figure jail will be the safest place. Gonna go back to Oklahoma?"
"Me? No, I'm a policeman now."
"What?" cried Grogan.
"Yeah. When I told the sergeant all about how I caught you, he said that was shrewd police work, and he called in the lieutenant, and they signed me up as a rookie cop. This morning I found out I passed the civil service examination, and I start in police school tomorrow."
"I'll be —"
"So will I. Ain't it great? Next month when the new term opens at the Art Institute I'll be able to study there in my off hours. The lieutenant said when the news got out about me being on the force, that would prob'ly end crime in Chicago once and for all!"
Judgment Day