Inkle-what’s-this, or whatever the old guy called it, was a very large house, Johnny Dolan observed, which looked somewhat like Birmingham Palace when you see it in the newsreel; but at that it had a little cellar door the same as any other house, and this was unlocked. Even with his five-and-ten flashlight, they could see the stairs far across the tremendous cellar — and there was really nothing whatsoever to getting to the second-floor corridor, which was maybe as wide as Fifth Avenue and had very large stairs leading downwards and also upwards, and was lighted only by a very small lamp at the one end.
“An’ this,” Mr. O’Toole whispered jubilantly, as he opened a door, “is the closet an’ it is now practically all over except gettin’ the fifty grand.”
Johnny Dolan flashed his light around again and, really, you would think people with servants would be ashamed to have a closet like this. What he meant, it was very untidy, with loose piles of books here and there and several trunks stuck in every which way, the extra large one, in fact, being tilted up with several books under one corner so a good push would have knocked it over.
“We have now got maybe an hour to wait,” Mr. O’Toole breathed on, “so leave the door slightly open an’ we will find a place to set, maybe over in this corner, huh?”
“Okay,” Johnny Dolan said, and turned quickly and — well, it was so very strange you could hardly describe it. What he meant, in turning it seemed he must somehow have struck this extra large trunk which was tilted on the books and started it tilting further, and it also seemed that Sniffy O’Toole must have been behind the trunk at this time, maybe leaning over or something.
So, anyhow, there was suddenly a very peculiar sound, like everything in the closet was sliding at once, and Sniffy O’Toole was making many strange noises, like: “Wah — wah — what the — wah—” And next there was a sort of soft, heavy “blong!” and Sniffy O’Toole said:
“Rrr — woof!”
That was all for the time being, except that Johnny Dolan finally found the button of his flashlight and turned it on — and, positively, you could not have helped laughing if it killed you, on account of there was Sniffy O’Toole on his back, with only his feet showing at the one end and his head showing at the other and this extra large trunk was laying flat on the rest of him!
And if you were not already in stitches at that, you would practically have died at the sight of Sniffy’s pan, once the light got on it. What Johnny Dolan meant, it was all blown out, like a couple of purple balloons and his eyes were also sticking that far out of his head you could have knocked them off with your finger!
“Dolan — y’ double-crossin’ little—” Mr. O’Toole gasped.
“Look, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan wheezed merrily, “you certain’y do not think I done that a-purpose, but you can be very thankful it fell on you like that, on account of if it had hit the floor it would have woke the whole house.”
“That is — one way lookin’ at it,” Mr. O’Toole squeezed out. “Lissen, Dolan. I... did not give you credit for that much — brains, but I get it. Okay. You win. I was only kiddin’, anyhow, when I spoke — that way about how we would split. What I mean, it is straight fifty-fifty, John, so now would you kindly lift off this damned trunk, on account of in maybe two minutes more I... will be dead.”
Johnny Dolan laid hands on it and tried to lift, and really you could never have believed anybody could get so much heavy stuff in one trunk, even supposing this was where the old palooka kept his spare anvils! What he meant, you could lift and lift and still it came up maybe only an inch and then—
“Dolan, y’ dirty little louse!” Mr. O’Toole strangled. “Ah... ah... lissen, Johnny, I didn’t mean to call you outen your name, but you ground the both feet offen me that time an’ — lissen, Johnny. We can now quit kid-din’ each other an’ say you take thirty grand an’ I take twenty, huh? So would you kindly lift this trunk? How it is, my two arms are pinned under me an’ I cannot move a muscle.”
“Well, look, Sniffy,” Johnny Dolan puffed, “I am doin’ the best I can, only it seems this box is full o’ coal an’—”
“T’ hell wit’ arguin’!” Mr. O’Toole whined. “Call it forty-ten, me takin’ the ten, an’ now, for the luvva—”
“If you would kindly lay still till I see can I get my fingers under that edge up there by your neck,” Johnny Dolan suggested superfluously.
It seemed he was getting a good grip now. He pulled as hard as he could and the trunk came up one inch, two inches, five, six inches. You could hear Sniffy suck in his breath with a long gasp and — HEY! You could also hear something else; you could hear footsteps coming down them stairs!
Johnny Dolan stiffened and listened. There was no doubt whatsoever; the guy was coming down. Johnny Dolan hurriedly dropped the trunk and stepped to the crack of the door. Yeah! He was halfway down!
“Waah! D-D-D-Dolan!” Mr. O’Toole choked out, and as he turned the light on him for a second Johnny Dolan saw that his eyes were now crossed and his tongue was hanging from one corner of his mouth. “I... I... I cannot take no more! Lissen! Gimme just five grand — an’ — you—”
It seemed that at this point he must have fainted, or something. Johnny Dolan shook his head. He was slightly confused, to be sure, but this was really enough to exasperate a person. What he meant, Sniffy was known far and wide as not so reliable; but you never would have said he was one to leave a pal all alone, to choke a guy that might easy be seven feet tall.
At that, from what you could see through the crack in this very punk light, he was not such a big guy. He had no hat and he wore some kind of long coat. Also, he was now practically down the flight, so Johnny Dolan pushed open the door and dived at him, first giving him quite a sock in the back, where his head joined on to his body, and then getting him by the neck; and in two seconds he could have cheered, on account of it seemed this was one of them lugs which have no guts whatsoever!
What he meant, no sooner this party found he was getting choked than he gave a little squawk and went limp all over, pulling Johnny Dolan down with him. It also seemed they were much nearer the stairs than he had thought, on account of they had now both tripped and were suddenly rolling down the flight together, one over the other. And now, it seemed, they had reached the bottom and had somehow hit one of them large iron suits of armor, which immediately fell over with a very loud bang and came apart, with the pieces rolling away in every direction, until you would have thought a wagonful of tinware had just been hit by a train.
And lissen! It seemed, even in this bum light, as Johnny Dolan bounced to his feet, that maybe this was not the right party after all, on account of he did not look about to elope.
“Help!” he screamed as he lay there. “Help! Help!” — only before the first yip was really out of him Johnny Dolan was moving down the main corridor of Inklewold so fast that small rugs were flying out behind him the same as dust.
Not only was this a dead-end corridor, but right in front of him the door of a lighted room was open maybe a couple of inches and some dame was looking out at him and—
“Inside an’ close the door!” Johnny Dolan snarled, and thrust his gun into a tricky little white apron on a maid’s black uniform as he followed. “Lissen, baby! Y’aint heard nothin’ an’ y’aint heard nobody, know what I mean? One peep outen you an’—”