I drew a long breath and went on.
“Now listen! There’ll be another car coming here. They’re bringing fifty grand from the bank for Jack — the First National haul. There’ll be two women in it and a man driving. You mutts nab the man and the old dame — a washed-out blonde. But if you touch the young girl, I’ll shoot hell out of you! She’s my client!”
The other car, a coupe, slid into the drive a few minutes later. A slim, dapper little crook got out from behind the wheel. Mamie, hanging on to Peggy’s arm, got out and pulled the girl after her. Mamie had a leather case under her arm. They got to the back door and then Joe X.’s boys rammed guns in their backs. But not in Peggy’s. As she let out a cry and backed away, frightened, I caught her in my good arm.
Mamie put her hands up and the leather case, full of five hundred dollar bills, went up in the air, flow open — and the money sailed and floated around us.
Joe X. called one of the dicks.
“Take this crazy shamus to the hospital,” he said, “before his arm gets so bad they’ll have to cut it off. From the looks of it, he’s going to need both arms. Take the girl along if she wants to go.”
“You know what, Peg o’ my heart,” I said. “We ought to go somewhere and get acquainted. Not a bad idea, eh?”
“Not bad at all,” she agreed.
So, as it turned out, the First National gave us five grand for nabbing Jack and Dutch; and old Gates practically begged me to take the job he had given Sloan. On account Sloan was locked up for murder, and not much use to Gates. Just to oblige the old guy, I took the job, but held out for more dough than before. Because maybe two can live as cheap as one, but I don’t think so.