“Maybe it’s mine,” I grunted.
“No, I don’t think so. It’s on the wall, too, and there’s a big hole in the wall where it looks like a bullet went through.”
I prayed that he was right. Right now I half hoped they’d show again so I could have a chance to really place a few where they’d hurt.
I don’t know how long it took to reach the car, but it seemed like hours. Every once in a while I thought I could discern shouts and guarded words of caution. By the time Ruston helped slide me under the wheel I felt as though I had been on the Death March.
We sat there in silence a few moments while I fumbled for a cigarette. The first drag was worth a million dollars. “There’s a robe in the back,” I told the kid. He knelt on the seat, got it and draped it over his legs.
“What happened?”
“Gosh, mister, I hardly know. When you pushed me away I ran out the door. The man I think you shot nearly grabbed me, but he didn’t. I hid behind the door for a while. They must have thought I ran off because when they followed me out one man told the others to scatter and search the beach, then he went away too. That’s when I came in and got you.”
I turned the key and reached for the starter. It hurt. “Before that. What happened then?”
“You mean the other night?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I woke up when the door opened. I thought maybe it was Miss Malcom. She always looks in before she goes to bed, but it wasn’t her. It was a man. I wanted to ask him who he was when he hit me. Right here.” Ruston rubbed the top of his head and winced.
“Which door did he come in?”
“The one off the hall, I think. I was pretty sleepy.”
Cute. Someone sneaks past the guard at the gate, through a houseful of people and puts the slug on the kid and walks off with him.
“Go on.” While he spoke I let in the clutch and swung around, then headed the car toward the estate.
“I woke up in a boat. They had me in a little room and the door was locked. I could hear the men talking in the stern and one called the man who was steering Mallory. That’s the only time I heard a name at all.”
The name didn’t strike any responsive chord as far as I was concerned, so I let him continue.
“Then I picked the lock and . . .”
“Wait a second, son.” I looked at him hard. “Say that again.”
“I picked the lock. Why?”
“Just like that you picked the lock. No trouble to it or anything?”
“Uh-uh.” He flashed a boyish grin at me, shyly. “I learned all about locks when I was little. This one was just a plain lock.”
He must be a genius. It takes me an hour with respectable burglar tools to open a closet door.
“. . . and as soon as I got out I opened a little hatch and crawled up on the deck. I saw the lights from shore and jumped overboard. Boy, was that water cold. They never even heard me at all. I nearly made it at that. After I jumped the boat kept right on going and disappeared, but I guess they found the door open down below. I should have locked it again but I was sort of scared and forgot. Just when I got up on the shore some man came running at me and they had me again. He said he’d figured I’d head for the lights, then he slapped me. He was waiting for the others to come and he made me go into the shack with him. Seems like they tied up in the cove and had to wait awhile before they could take me back to the boat.
“He had a bottle and started drinking from it, and pretty soon he was almost asleep. I waited until he was sort of dopey then threw my pajama pants out the window with a rock in them hoping someone would find them. He never noticed what I did. But he did know he was getting drunk, and he didn’t have any more in the bottle. He hit me a few times and I tried to get away. Then he really gave it to me. When he got done he took some rope and tied me up and went down the beach after the others. That was when you came in.”
“And I went out,” I added.
“Gee, mister, I hope you didn’t get hurt too badly.” His face was anxious, truly anxious. It’s been a long time since someone worried about me getting hurt. I ran my fingers through his hair and shook his head gently.
“It isn’t too bad, kid,” I said. He grinned again, pulled the robe tighter and moved closer to me. Every few seconds he’d throw me a searching glance, half curious, half serious.
“What’s your name?”
“Mike Hammer.”
“Why do you carry a gun?”
“I’m a detective, Ruston. A private detective.”
A sigh of relief escaped him. He probably figured me for one of the mob who didn’t like the game, I guess.
“How did you happen to find me?”
“I was looking for you.”
“I’m . . . I’m glad it was you, Mr. Hammer, and not somebody else. I don’t think anyone would have been brave enough to do what you did.”
I laughed at that. He was a good kid. If any bravery was involved he had it all. Coming back in after me took plenty of nerve. I told him so, but he chuckled and blushed. Damn, you couldn’t help but like him. In spite of a face full of bruises and all the hell he had been through he could still smile. He sat there beside me completely at ease, watching me out of the corner of his eye as though I was a tin god or something.
For a change some of the lights were off in the house. Henry, the gatekeeper, poked a flashlight in the car and his mouth fell open. All he got out was, “M . . . Master Ruston!”
“Yeah, it’s him. Open the gates.” He pulled a bar at the side and the iron grillwork rolled back. I pushed the buggy through, but by the time I reached the house Henry’s call had the whole family waiting on the porch.
York didn’t even wait until I stopped. He yanked the door open and reached for his son. Ruston’s arms went around his neck and he kept repeating, “Dad . . . Dad.”
I wormed out of the car and limped around to the other side. The family was shooting questions at the kid a mile a minute and completely ignored me, not that it mattered. I shoved them aside and took York by the arm. “Get the kid in the house and away from this mob. He’s had enough excitement for a while.”
The scientist nodded. Ruston said, “I can walk, Dad.” He held the robe around himself and we went in together.
Before the others could follow, York turned. “If you don’t mind, please go to your rooms. You will hear what happened in the morning.”
There was no disputing who was master in that house. They looked at one another then slouched off in a huff. I drew a few nasty looks myself.
I slammed the door on the whole pack of them and started for the living room, but Harvey interrupted me en route. Having once disrupted his composure, events weren’t likely to do it a second time. When he handed me the tray with the diagram of the bedroom layout neatly worked up he was the perfect flunky.
“The guest plan, sir,” he said. “I trust it is satisfactory?”
I took it without looking at it and thanked him, then stuck it in my pocket.
York was in an anteroom with his son. The kid was stretched out on a table while his father went over each bruise carefully, searching for abrasions. Those he daubed with antiseptic and applied small bandages. This done he began a thorough examination in the most professional manner.
When he finished I asked, “How is he?”
“All right, apparently,” he answered, “but it will be difficult to tell for a few days. I’m going to put him to bed now. His physical condition has always been wonderful, thank goodness.”
He wrapped Ruston in a robe and rang for Harvey. I picked up the wreckage that was my coat and slipped into it. The butler came in and at York’s direction, picked the kid up and they left the room. On the way out Ruston smiled a good-night at me over the butler’s shoulder.