“How?”
“Leave it to me, kid; leave it to me! If I swing it, will you go with me? You know I’ll be good to you.”
She smiled contemptuously, I thought — but he seemed to like it.
“You’re whooping right you’ll be good to me,” she said. “But listen, Hook: we couldn’t get away with it — not unless you get him. I know him! I’m not running away with anything that belongs to him unless he is fixed so that he can’t come after it.”
Hook moistened his lips and looked around the room at nothing. Apparently he didn’t like the thought of tangling with the owner of the British drawl. But his desire for the girl was too strong for his fear of the other man.
“I’ll do it!” he blurted. “I’ll get him! Do you mean it, kid? If I get him, you’ll go with me?”
She held out her hand.
“It’s a bet,” she said, and he believed her.
His ugly face grew warm and red and utterly happy, and he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. In his place, I might have believed her myself — all of us have fallen for that sort of thing at one time or another — but sitting tied up on the side-lines, I knew that he’d have been better off playing with a gallon of nitro than with this baby. She was dangerous! There was a rough time ahead for this Hook!
“This is the lay—” Hook began, and stopped, tongue-tied.
A step had sounded in the next room.
Immediately the British voice came through the portières, and there was an edge of exasperation to the drawl now:
“This is really too much! I can’t” — he said reahly and cawnt — “leave for a moment without having things done all wrong. Now just what got into you, Elvira, that you must go in and exhibit yourself to our detective friend?”
Fear flashed into her smoke-grey eyes, and out again, and she spoke airily:
“Don’t be altogether yellow,” she said. “Your precious neck can get along all right without so much guarding.”
The portières parted, and I twisted my head around as far as I could get it for my first look at this man who was responsible for my still being alive. I saw a short fat man, hatted and coated for the street, and carrying a tan traveling bag in one hand.
Then his face came into the yellow circle of light, and I saw that it was a Chinese face. A short fat Chinese, immaculately clothed in garments that were as British as his accent.
“It isn’t a matter of color,” he told the girl — and I understood now the full sting of her jibe; “it’s simply a matter of ordinary wisdom.”
His face was a round yellow mask, and his voice was the same emotionless drawl that I had heard before; but I knew that he was as surely under the girl’s sway as the ugly man — or he wouldn’t have let her taunt bring him into the room. But I doubted that she’d find this Anglicized oriental as easily handled as Hook.
“There was no particular need,” the Chinese was still talking, “for this chap to have seen any of us.” He looked at me now for the first time, with little opaque eyes that were like two black seeds. “It’s quite possible that he didn’t know any of us, even by description. This showing ourselves to him is the most arrant sort of nonsense.”
“Aw, hell, Tai!” Hook blustered. “Quit your bellyaching, will you? What’s the diff? I’ll knock him off, and that takes care of that!”
The Chinese set down his tan bag and shook his head.
“There will be no killing,” he drawled, “or there will be quite a bit of killing. You don’t mistake my meaning, do you, Hook?”
Hook didn’t. His Adam’s apple ran up and down with the effort of his swallowing, and behind the cushion that was choking me, I thanked the yellow man again.
Then this red-haired she-devil put her spoon in the dish.
“Hook’s always offering to do things that he has no intention of doing,” she told the Chinese.
Hook’s ugly face blazed red at this reminder of his promise to get the Chinese, and he swallowed again, and his eyes looked as if nothing would have suited him better than an opportunity to crawl under something. But the girl had him; her influence was stronger than his cowardice.
He suddenly stepped close to the Chinese, and from his advantage of a full head in height scowled down into the round yellow face that was as expressionless as a clock without hands.
“Tai,” the ugly man snarled; “you’re done. I’m sick and tired of all this dog you put on — acting like you was a king or something. I’ve took all the lip I’m going to take from a Chink! I’m going to—”
He faltered, and his words faded away into silence. Tai looked up at him with eyes that were as hard and black and inhuman as two pieces of coal. Hook’s lips twitched and he flinched away a little.
I stopped sweating. The yellow man had won again. But I had forgotten the red-haired she-devil.
She laughed now — a mocking laugh that must have been like a knife to the ugly man.
A bellow came from deep in his chest, and he hurled one big fist into the round blank face of the yellow man.
The force of the punch carried Tai all the way across the room, and threw him on his side in one corner.
But he had twisted his body around to face the ugly man even as he went hurtling across the room — a gun was in his hand before he went down — and he was speaking before his legs had settled upon the floor — and his voice was a cultured British drawl.
“Later,” he was saying; “we will settle this thing that is between us. Just now you will drop your pistol and stand very still while I get up.”
Hook’s revolver — only half out of his pocket when the oriental had covered him — thudded to the rug. He stood rigidly still while Tai got to his feet, and Hook’s breath came out noisily, and each freckle stood ghastily out against the dirty scared white of his face.
I looked at the girl. There was contempt in the eyes with which she looked at Hook, but no disappointment.
Then I made a discovery: something had changed in the room near her!
I shut my eyes and tried to picture that part of the room as it had been before the two men had clashed. Opening my eyes suddenly, I had the answer.
On the table beside the girl had been a book and some magazines. They were gone now. Not two feet from the girl was the tan bag that Tai had brought into the room. Suppose the bag had held the bonds from the Los Angeles job that they had mentioned. It probably had. What then? It probably now held the book and magazines that had been on the table! The girl had stirred up the trouble between the two men to distract their attention while she made a switch. Where would the loot be, then? I didn’t know, but I suspected that it was too bulky to be on the girl’s slender person.
Just beyond the table was a couch, with a wide red cover that went all the way down to the floor. I looked from the couch to the girl. She was watching me, and her eyes twinkled with a flash of mirth as they met mine coming from the couch. The couch it was!
By now the Chinese had pocketed Hook’s revolver, and was talking to him:
“If I hadn’t a dislike for murder, and if I didn’t think that you will perhaps be of some value to Elvira and me in effecting our departure, I should certainly relieve us of the handicap of your stupidity now. But I’ll give you one more chance. I would suggest, however, that you think carefully before you give way to any more of your violent impulses.” He turned to the girl. “Have you been putting foolish ideas in our Hook’s head?”
She laughed.
“Nobody could put any kind in it.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, and then came over to test the lashings about my arms and body.
Finding them satisfactory, he picked up the tan bag, and held out the gun he had taken from the ugly man a few minutes before.