“Put it down, Sam,” Johnny said.
“Out of my hotel!” bleated Mr. Peabody. “Out of my hotel. This is an outrage. I won’t take this another minute.”
Sam lowered the chair to the floor, but still stood at bay. “You ain’t goin’ to let them pinch me, are you, Johnny?”
“It’ll be all right, Sam.”
“It won’t be,” persisted Lieutenant Madigan. “You know very well that I’ve got to take him in.”
“No!” roared Sam.
“Out!” screamed Mr. Peabody.
“Cragg,” said Lieutenant Madigan, “you can come quietly, or you can be dragged out.”
“Who’s going to do it?” defied Sam.
Lieutenant Madigan produced his revolver. “For the last time, Cragg...”
Peabody bleated again, “Please — no blood on my carpeting. Pease...!”
Johnny crooked a finger at Madigan, “I’ve got something for you, Madigan, something that will—”
“No! I was sent here to get Cragg, that’s all.”
“Aren’t you still on the Carmichael case?”
“I am, but first things first.”
“You think you’ll be a hero, picking up Sam on a fugitive warrant? Would you rather pinch him and turn him over to the Peekskill police on a silly misdemeanor charge than bring in the murderer of Jess Carmichael the Third?”
“I’m not going to listen to you. And Sam Cragg isn’t facing any misdemeanor charges. It’s forgery, grand larceny, jail-breaking and—”
Johnny waved it all away. “I can straighten all that out in two minutes. But, listen, I’ve got the murderer of Jess Carmichael. I can give him to you, all wrapped up and tied with a pink ribbon.”
“You can do one thing,” Madigan said bitterly. “You can talk bigger and faster than any sidewalk spieler I ever heard.”
“You were in my room an hour ago, Madigan. Who knocked on the door and came in?”
“All right, I grant you that. You bamboozled the old man, somehow.”
“I’ve bamboozled the murderer, too.”
“All right, who is he?”
“I’ll name him for you in just about fifteen minutes. And you can then put the handcuffs on him.”
“Tell me now, if you want me to believe you.”
“No — I can’t prove it now. I can in fifteen minutes.”
“All right,” said Madigan grimly. “The boys can take Sam Cragg down to the precinct house and I’ll go with you.”
“No dice,” said Johnny. “Sam comes along with us.”
“He goes to jail!”
“No, Johnny!” cried Sam.
“Sam goes with us,” Johnny said stubbornly. “You can bring your policemen along if you want to, but Sam goes with us.”
Madigan hesitated and was lost. “There’s no monkey business about this?”
“I promise you,” said Johnny. “I’ll hand over the murderer to you or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll hand him over. That’s all.”
“Fletcher, it’s my job to bring in a prisoner as soon as I arrest him. If I carry Cragg around town with me, I’ve got to explain the reason to the captain. If it isn’t a good reason, I’ll be pounding a beat.”
“And if you bring in the person who murdered the son of one of the richest men in the United States?”
“That’s the reason I’m gambling. I know you’re a slick, fast-talking sharpshooter—”
“Don’t believe him, officer,” cried Mr. Peabody. “Don’t believe a thing he tells you. I have reason to believe that he — he entered my apartment and stole a suit of my clothes.”
Johnny waggled a forefinger at the hotel manager. “Some day, Peabody, some day...”
“Come on,” snapped Madigan suddenly.
He started for the door. Sam fell in beside Johnny and the two uniformed policemen fell in behind them.
“Oh, the things I went through today, Johnny,” moaned Sam.
“I know, Sam, I know.”
“First I was kidnaped. Then I escaped and — I was so hungry. My backbone was pushing my chest. I... I had to eat or starve, so I” — he gulped, swallowed hard and shuddered — “I... I can’t even tell you about it, Johnny. The thing that happened to me.”
“Tell me later.”
The squad car was at the curb. The two policemen got into the front seat and Madigan, Sam and Johnny crowded into the rear. “Where to?” asked Madigan.
“The Barbizon-Waldorf.”
The driver used the siren until Madigan curtly ordered him to stop.
Five minutes later the police car pulled up before the Barbizon-Waldorf. A doorman came over, then backed away. “You want to make a scene?” Johnny asked the lieutenant.
“Damn!” swore Madigan.
“Sam won’t escape. I’ll give you my word.”
“Yeah, I promise, too,” chimed in Sam.
“All right, come on,” snarled Madigan. He gestured to the policemen. “You boys wait out here.”
“Sure you can handle it alone?” one of the men asked.
“I can handle it.”
The three men climbed out of the rear seat and went into the hotel. They rode up to the floor of Sutton’s apartment, then as they neared the room, Johnny stopped. “Let me and Sam go in, Lieutenant. You wait outside until I call you.”
“Don’t give me that,” snapped Madigan.
“Play it my way.”
Madigan gritted his teeth. “I’ll be right outside this door.”
23
Johnny pressed the button of the door buzzer. “Come!” called the voice of James Sutton.
Johnny and Sam entered Sutton’s suite. Hertha Colston sat in a big chair near the window, a half-emptied glass in her hand.
“Johnny!” she cried. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
“Hello,” said Johnny casually. “This is my friend, Sam Cragg.”
“How are you, Sam,” Hertha said cordially.
“You made a conquest this noon,” Sutton said, smiling. “But I gather you didn’t do so well with Don Wheelwright.”
“He’s an advertising man,” replied Johnny carelessly.
“That’s more than I am,” said Sutton wryly. “I’ve got Scotch and bourbon. What’ll it be?”
“I’ll take a bottle of beer,” Sam offered.
“Beer? I’ll have to send down for some.”
“Never mind,” Johnny interrupted. “You said you had something important to tell me.”
“I have, but let it wait a few minutes. Uncle’s on his way over.”
“You called him? They told me at his office that he was out.”
“He probably was. He called me.”
“Don’s on his way over, too,” said Hertha.
“Good,” said Johnny. “Suppose I telephone Alice Cummings and ask her over?”
“That woman!” said Hertha disgustedly.
Johnny grinned. “I’ve got four inches of raw shin — and I think I’ve got three teeth loose.”
“You had a fight with her?”
“Not me with her. Her with me.”
“Uncle Jess said something about her trying to blackmail him,” Sutton offered.
“Blackmail? I thought she was merely trying to sell him something.”
“The name of Jess’s murderer.” Sutton smiled thinly. “I guess that’s her description of blackmail.” He crossed and poured himself a fresh drink.
“Can I give you a refill?” he asked Hertha.
“This is a refill. That’s my quota.” Hertha studied Sam. “Is this the strong man?”
“If I was in a good mood, I’d show you my muscles,” Sam volunteered.
“Why, aren’t you in a good mood?”
“Things — happened to me today.”
“Sam had a rough day of it. So did I, for that matter.” Johnny seated himself in a chair near a table.
“You’ve been trying to find Cousin Lester,” Sutton said. “That’s what I want to tell you about. I had a call from him.”