“Why?” Andrews said, alarmed. “I didn’t hit him, did I?”
“No,” the Major said calmly. “But he is a young lady, and she looks as if she were in distress.”
“Oh,” Andrews said. “Oh.” He didn’t look particularly happy about it, but he did pull over to the shoulder. As soon as he stopped, I got out and walked back to where a slim girl with long blonde hair framing a round, almost doll-like face stood beside the coupe.
“Trouble?” I said.
The girl looked at me apprehensively — which wasn’t an entirely unnatural or unexpected reaction since this was a lonely road and she couldn’t be sure I wasn’t a wolf out to add to whatever trouble she already had. Her face brightened almost immediately, though, when she saw Andrews and the Major coming up behind me.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, relieved. “Mr. Andrews.”
Andrews frowned and peered at her. “I don’t believe—” he said slowly.
“I’m Carol Ferguson,” the girl said. “And, oh, of course you don’t know me, but I’ve seen you several times when I’ve come to the bank on business for Mr. Robert Horsley.”
“I see,” Andrews said. “That explains it then.”
The Major stepped forward between them, inclining his head gravely. “Permit me to introduce myself,” he said. “Major Henry T. McDonlevy, formerly the U.S. Army’s and hence the world’s greatest adjutant, now retired and at your service.”
The girl acknowledged his half bow with a smile.
“That young gentleman over there grinning like a jackass,” he went on, “is my associate, Mr. Thomas James. Think we can help the young lady, Tom?”
“We can try,” I said. I spoke to Miss Ferguson. “What seems to be the trouble?”
She smiled wryly. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I pulled off the road to check my map for a turnoff and the motor stalled. And I haven’t been able to get it started again.”
“Let’s take a look,” I said. I lifted the hood, bent over the motor, and sniffed. The smell of gasoline was almost overpowering. “Just as I suspected. You flooded the carburetor. Do you have a screwdriver?”
“In the glove compartment, I think.”
I got out the screwdriver, then went back to the motor and unscrewed the air filter to get at the choke underneath. Setting the filter to one side, I used the screwdriver to prop the choke closed. Then I got in behind the wheel, floored the gas pedal, and turned the ignition key. The motor ground once, then kicked over and settled down to a steady purr. I got out, retrieved the screwdriver, and replaced the air filter.
“See,” I said, slamming the hood back down, “nothing to it.”
Miss Ferguson clapped her hands in glee. “Oh,” she cried, “I can’t thank you enough. I might have been stuck here all day.”
“No need to thank us at all, my dear,” the Major said. “Glad to be of service.”
“No,” she said, sobering somewhat but still smiling. “One good turn deserves another. Do you plan to be around town very long, Major?”
“That depends on how our business goes,” the Major said.
“Well,” she said, “if you decide you’ve had enough business and want to relax for a while, you’ll probably want to stop by Mr. Horsley’s.” She fumbled in her purse and brought out a business card which she handed to the Major. “Just show that and it’ll open the way for you.”
And with that she flashed me a bright “thank you” smile, got into her car, and pulled off onto the highway, giving us one last wave of her hand as she went past.
“Nice girl,” the Major said, slipping the card into his breast pocket. “I’m glad we stopped to help her.”
“I suppose,” Andrews said.
The Major looked at him curiously. “That’s an odd thing to say,” he said.
“Maybe it is,” Andrews said, “and I don’t know anything about her personally. She does work for Mr. Horsley, though. And — well, I suppose I shouldn’t talk against him since he is a depositor and his has always been a good account. But the fact of the matter is that Horsley runs a gambling den behind that restaurant of his.”
“Really?” the Major said. “I didn’t think gambling was legal in this state.”
“It isn’t,” Andrews said drily. “But most of Horsley’s customers are out-of-state people from across the river, and as long as there are no complaints locally, I guess the sheriff just looks the other way. Or lets himself be paid to.”
“I see,” the Major said. “Well, as Tom well knows, I try to live according to the precepts of the Good Book. And not being without sin myself, I hesitate to throw the first stone. But that’s neither here nor there, I suppose. So shall we get on with the business we set out to do?”
“Just what I was going to propose myself, Major,” Andrews said, and led us back to his car.
Whether as a result of the experience or not, Andrews did pay more attention to his driving and we made it the rest of the way to the building site without further incident.
The building itself was a long shedlike affair set well back from the highway on the crest of a low knoll. Unfortunately, in common with a lot of other factory buildings put up in this part of the country some 20 to 30 years ago, the lower half had been sided with corrugated metal sheeting and then left to fend for itself. It hadn’t done too well. On the other hand, the upper stories were all glass — or would have been if the broken windows had been replaced. Those few that remained intact had weathered to an opaque gray that almost matched the color of the metal below.
We spent a full hour tramping around and studying the building from all angles, both outside and in. Or rather the Major did. Andrews and I both copped out early and went back to his car to wait.
“Unusual man, your friend, the Major,” Andrews said.
“Yes, he is,” I said. “Very unusual.”
“He never did really make clear why you two were interested in this place,” Andrews added casually.
I smiled. “To be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Andrews,” I said, “I haven’t the slightest idea either. But this I do know: the Major never does anything without a reason and he has a positive genius for making money out of the most unlikely situations. Take my worthless Michigan swampland, for example. We gave that away and made $20,000 in the process.”
“Really?” Andrews said. He sounded more than a little interested.
“Really,” I said.
“Very interesting,” Andrews murmured and looked thoughtfully over at the old building.
Not long after that the Major finished his inspection and came back to join us.
“Well, Major,” Andrews said, “what’s your decision?”
The Major shrugged. “It’s hard to say,” he said. “The basic structure is sound, but it would take considerable work getting it in usable condition. And, of course,” he added, smiling, “a lot would depend on the kind of financial arrangements that could be worked out. But perhaps we can discuss those over dinner this evening.”
“With pleasure, Major,” Andrews said and put the car in gear. You could almost see him rubbing his hands together.
At the Major’s suggestion we ate at Horsley’s Restaurant. As a gesture of courtesy to Carol Ferguson for giving us the card of admittance, he said. But I wasn’t surprised — nor, I suspect, was Andrews — when after the meal the Major leaned back expansively and suggested we take a look in at the gambling room. “After all,” he said, “you can’t talk business forever. All work and no play, you know.”
Andrews hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose it would be foolish,” he said, “to have gotten this close and then go away without seeing what the place looks like.”
“You’ve never been here before?” I said.
He gave me an oblique look and shook his head. “I’m no gambler,” he said. “When I lay out money, I like the return to be calculated in advance.”