The Kid felt safe, for “taking a ride,” or being “put on the spot” was not common in Oakland. The risk was too great, but mentally he kissed the sparklers good-by that he had in his pocket. He climbed in the front seat of the indicated car, noting that the back seat held a moll who had been lately playing around with Docky. The driver turned to her as he started the car:
“Your gat’s got a silencer. Use it if he starts anything.”
That was that! No chance to grab the wheel and make a getaway. Puggy was out of luck. The car picked up speed and was soon out of the business district, and the Kid noted with some surprise that it was not headed for Emeryville, but for the open country beyond the Tunnel Road. He kept silent, but watched for some clue to his prospective destination. At once the answer came to him!
Docky was double-crossing Big Mike!
The car left the eastern portal of the tunnel and made its way between the hills until it reached a road which was evidently little travelled. In fact it was more of a country lane, not even a gravelled roadbed to show of occasional use. Docky drove down this road for about five miles, then stopped his car.
“All right Kid,” he said cheerfully. “End of the line! All change! Don’t forget your parcels!”
His gun emphasized his orders, so the Kid climbed down. His face was black with anger but he knew they had him cold, and a struggle was useless. Maybe his chance would come later! But Docky had another sudden idea!
“Slip off the boats, Puggy, bare dogs for you!”
The Kid cursingly tore off his shoes which Docky threw into the back of the car. With a farewell gesture of derision he regained the driver’s seat, turned the car around and disappeared in the dusty distance. The Singing Kid was left alone, miles from anywhere, bare of foot — robbed of his spoils — facing a long weary walk back to the main travelled highway.
It was nearly dark before a truck driver took pity on him and gave him the coveted lift into town. Puggy was disgusted, was entirely through with the town which gave him such bad breaks. He would pack up his belongings and take the boat the following day to Los Angeles, where a man had a chance, if not too well known.
Meanwhile, as day grew towards night, Big Mike was becoming worried. He had trusted Docky, but one could never tell — the double-cross was the usual thing in the underworld, despite that reputed “honor among thieves.”
He felt that he had been a sap to let anyone handle the deal but himself. When night-time arrived he was certain he had been two-timed, and his wrath was great.
He drove to the small hotel where Docky had been living with his moll, Belle, and a few questions to the landlady, who knew him and was desirous of ingratiating herself with him, made him bite his lips in anger.
Belle had been unable to entirely keep her mouth closed, and had intimated that they would take the boat the following day to San Diego, and in the meanwhile would visit friends in San Francisco. Big Mike realized the futility of trying to find them in that city, and knew he could not make a scene at the boat, so resolved to also take passage on the same ship.
Big Mike got to his stateroom early the next day, and remained hidden as the boat backed out from the pier and turned her nose towards the Golden Gate. He kept his cabin door open an inch or so, his ears keenly alert for the possibility of his quarry passing his door, although with the three decks and numerous passageways, he knew the odds were against it.
But luck favored him, and at last he heard Docky’s deep voice. Cautiously peering out he saw the pair following a cabin steward down the passageway to a stateroom. The door closed behind them, and he quickly and noiselessly stole past, noting their number to avoid any possibility of mistake.
Satisfied, he returned to his stateroom where a flask and a magazine engaged him until he heard the call for dinner. He again fixed his door open a crack and finally heard the voices of the pair as they passed his door.
“I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” said Docky. “I guess we’ve earned our chuck today, haven’t we?”
Belle laughed in reply. “I’ll say so, and the best of all is that we’re in the clear tonight, anyway.”
Waiting until sufficient time had elapsed for them to gain the dining salon and secure their seats at a table, Mike walked again towards their door. He was at a loss, for he had keys which would fit it, but brightened as he saw a steward approaching. He decided to take a chance.
“Just open this door for me, will you steward?” he asked smoothly. “My wife has our key up on deck.”
The steward hesitated a moment, but being in a hurry took a master key and opened the door. Big Mike handed him a coin, and with a word of thanks the steward disappeared. Time was short, but Mike made a close search of all their belongings, being careful not to disarrange anything which might give them an inkling that a search had been made.
But he was unsuccessful, so decided the stones he sought were on their persons, probably in the somewhat large handbag that Belle was carrying. He carefully opened the door, saw the passageway was evidently clear, and returned to his room.
Yet in his caution and haste to avoid observation, he failed to note that the entrance of another stateroom stood ajar, and that a man stepped hurriedly back out of sight as he passed. Had he noted this and recognized his watcher, he would have felt much less optimistic regarding the stones.
He decided to keep under cover, so he had a steward bring him something to eat in his cabin, complaining of not feeling very well. He dared not show his face on deck or in the dining salon.
It was after midnight when Docky and Belle became tired of watching the sea and were ready to retire. They walked down to their stateroom, tired but happy, and the soft carpets muffled the sound of the trailing footsteps in their rear. Docky opened the door, reached in and turned on the light, while Belle followed him.
A startled scream broke from her lips, and a curse from Docky’s as the door closed behind them and Big Mike stood carelessly against it, the gun in his unshaking hand menacing them both.
“Not a move or sound, rats,” said Mike coldly. “Thought you’d put something over, didn’t you?”
Belle sank down on the side of the berth, half swooning in terror, while Docky stood wordlessly, his shifty eyes widening in fear.
“Lie down on your faces on the floor, both of you,” commanded Mike tonelessly.
He rolled them over on their backs, so they could see him as he copped the stones, enjoying their expressions as they saw their fortune leaving them. The eyes of Belle glittered malevolently as she saw Mike lift up her handbag, carelessly throw its contents out on the floor and take up a covered parcel.
He ripped it open at one end, and a small cascade of glistening diamonds fell into his avid hand. He toyed with them absently a moment, then replaced them in the packet, put it in his pocket and turned to the two.
“You won’t dare squawk about this,” he said fiercely. “If you do, even if they do get me, someone will get you right. You’d better report when they find you in the morning that someone you didn’t know stuck you up and left you. Otherwise it’ll be just too bad for you.”
Big Mike stepped to the door, turned out the light and stepped into the corridor. He had a flashing glimpse of an upraised arm holding something bright and shiny — a sudden feeling of intense pain just above the right ear, and blackness engulfed him. He was dragged into the darkened stateroom, deft fingers went through his pockets and again the green covered parcel changed hands.
The two prone bound figures, lying in the dark, tried vainly to gain an idea of what was going on. Muffled sounds came from them, and the Singing Kid switched on the light. He laughed outright at the sight that met his eyes, and ignored the mute looks of appeal on the face of Docky and Belle. He tore a sheet into strips and bound Big Mike tightly, then stood gazing at his handiwork. His lips opened in a soft low song.