“Yes.”
“What?”
“I can’t betray the person who helped me.”
“Don’t mention that person. Just tell me what happened.”
“I was being given sanctuary there in that warehouse. There was every reason to believe that it was a safe place, that no one would come there. I had been assured that things would... well, that they’d be arranged so that I’d have the place all to myself.
“Then out of a clear sky something happened. I heard an automobile drive up, a key in the door, and someone was coming in. I couldn’t get out through the door. I ran to the window and jumped out and ran. The lights came on just as I was climbing out of the window. I looked back and saw Gloster standing there in the doorway. He was flabbergasted. I think he saw and recognized me. I don’t know.”
“And he walked over to telephone?”
“I don’t know what he did. I didn’t stop to find out. I got out of there.”
“What time was this?”
“A little after ten, about ten minutes after ten I think it was.”
“And you went directly to that restaurant and telephoned?”
“Yes.”
“To whom did you telephone?”
“That is something I’m not going to answer.”
“Someone came and got you?”
“Yes.”
“Who was it?”
“Try and find out.”
“The police know.”
“Then you’d better ask the police. They can tell you; I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“All right, it’s the same thing.”
“Gloster wasn’t one of the persons who helped you escape when you were taken from the automobile?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Was Bill Hendrum one of the...”
“Damn it, Clane, don’t go flinging names around that way. Leave Bill out of this.”
Clane said, “You had quite a stock of groceries there. Who bought those for you? The same person who established you in the warehouse in the first place?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m trying to find out what to think.”
“Find out some place else then.”
Clane was starting to say something when he heard the sound of echoing steps in the corridor. A key rattled in the lock. A burly, thicknecked man said, “Which one is Terry Clane?”
“I am,” Clane said, stepping forward.
“Out,” the man said.
“I knew they’d spring you,” Harold said. “You haven’t any hard luck.”
Clane extended his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “I’m probably merely being transferred. But here’s luck.”
After a moment Edward Harold reached out and took Clane’s hand. Clane noticed that the fingers which circled his hand, the palm which pressed against his, were wet with perspiration.
“If you see God’s blue sky again,” Edward Harold said, “tell it hello for me,” and then deliberately turned his back on Clane and the turnkey.
Eighteen
“What is it?” Clane asked as they walked down the corridor.
“You are being sprung,” the turnkey said.
“How?”
“Some Chinese girl and a lawyer. That’s one thing about the Chinese. When they get lawyers, they get good ones. Long as I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Chink show up with a cheap lawyer. He either has none at all, or else he gets the best, regardless of what it costs. Don’t ever kid yourself the Chinese ain’t shrewd. Cripes! I’ve seen lots of fellows that thought they were wise guys show up with mouthpieces that we knew all about. Damn ambulance chasers. The guys were just throwing their money away, falling for a line of bull some cheap shyster passed out. But you take the Chinks. Boy, when they show up, they really have lawyers. And you’ve got one this time that’s the best.”
“Who?” Clane asked.
“Carl Marcell.”
“Never heard of him,” Clane said.
“Where you been the last few years, buddy?”
“I’ve been in the Orient.”
“I guess that accounts for it. Right this way.”
The turnkey unlocked the door at the end of the corridor, flung back the heavy steel casement, and Clane found himself in a waiting room near the entrance corridor of the jail. Chu Kee and Sou Ha were there, and a tall impressive man with a profile of granite, and silver-gray hair which swept back in well-kept waves from a high forehead.
“Clane?” the man asked.
Terry nodded.
Chu Kee beamed at Clane.
The tall man put out his hand, enveloped Clane’s in a muscular grip. “I’m Carl Marcell,” he said. “I’ve been retained to act for you. I’ve threatened a writ of habeas corpus, and they’ve turned you loose rather than put a charge against you.”
“And how about Sou Ha?”
“I sprang her an hour ago,” Marcell said. “I had a little more trouble with you. They tried to hang on to you until the last minute. They really hated to let you go.”
A door opened. Inspector Malloy appeared, his face positively beaming. “Well, well, well. You’re leaving us, Mr. Clane. That’s fine. That’s really splendid. I’m sorry we had to detain you. It was just one of those things. But you have Mr. Marcell in your camp, and he’ll take care of you. Yes, indeed, Mr. Clane, he’ll take care of you.”
“No hard feelings,” Clane said, smiling.
Carl Marcell said, “You were only holding him. There was no charge booked against him. You had no right to put him in a cell with a convicted felon.”
“Well, now, of course,” Malloy beamed, “accommodations are pretty hard to get in even the best hotels. And you take a hotel such as we run, on short notice that way it’s sometimes difficult to provide just the accommodations we want. But it’s all right now. We didn’t intend to keep your client too long.”
“No longer than it took a lawyer to threaten you with a habeas corpus.”
Malloy merely grinned.
The jail doors swung open and the little party debouched into the night, meeting the stares of some curious pedestrians who gazed first casually then with eager curiosity as someone pointed out the tall figure of Marcell, the famous criminal lawyer, flanked by the Chinese man and woman on the one side and a Caucasian on the other.
Clane heard one of the men say in a low voice, “Probably opium. He...” And then Sou Ha was opening the door of Chu Kee’s big limousine and Clane was helping her into the car, then getting in beside her.
Carl Marcell gravely shook hands.
“You’re not coming with us?” Clane asked.
“No,” the lawyer said, “I have my own car. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble, Mr. Clane; if you do, call me. Here’s a card which has my office number on it, and that number up in the right-hand corner is my night number, a private phone where you can get me at any hour of the day or night. Just don’t give it out to anyone. It’s a number I reserve for my important clients.”
“And your fees?” Clane asked.
Chu Kee said in Chinese, “What has been done is a matter of friendship.”
Marcell was more explicit. “I don’t suppose your friend cares about telling you all of the details, but... well, there is no charge.”
Sou Ha added by way of explanation, “Father keeps Mr. Marcell retained by the year.”
Clane showed his surprise.
“For situations of just this sort,” Sou Ha said.
Then Marcell was moving back toward his car, walking with the grace of a man whose business it is to impress spectators; and Sou Ha, behind the wheel of the limousine, was warming up the motor. A moment later they glided smoothly away from the curb and out into the traffic of the city; and Terry Clane, watching the life flowing past him, could not but contrast his lot with the plight of the man whom he had left in the jail cell to be subjected to the final indignity of being stripped of his outer clothing and pushed into a small circular chamber in which presently there would be the hiss of escaping gas.