“Run!” Johnny said thickly. “Come on, you fool! They’ll be after us!”
Immediately above them a gun barked. Ken heard the slug zip past his face and saw Johnny stagger.
“Run!” Johnny snarled, recovering his balance.
Panic-stricken, Ken bolted down the dark alley after Johnny as a police whistle shrilled in the darkness.
They hadn’t run more than fifty yards when Johnny suddenly staggered, lost his balance and fell on hands and knees.
Ken pulled up and bent over him.
“Were you hit?” he panted.
“Got it in the arm,” Johnny gasped. “I’m bleeding like hell.”
Ken looked frantically to right and left. He could hear someone running down an iron staircase not far off. He could hear distant shouts and more police whistles. He caught hold of Johnny and hauled him to his feet. Johnny leaned against him.
“Where’s this alley lead to?” Ken asked.
“I don’t know. Leave me! They’ll be on to us in a moment.”
“No!”
Ken wanted to run, but he knew he had to stick with Johnny. Adams had said he wanted Johnny, and Ken was determined he should have Johnny.
He pulled Johnny back against the wall. Nearby was a door, leading to a tall, shabby house. Suddenly the door jerked open and a shadowy figure of a girl appeared in the doorway.
“Hey! Come inside quick!” she said in an urgent whisper.
Ken could hear the thud of running feet coming from the end of the alley. He didn’t hesitate. Dragging Johnny over to the door, he bundled him into the darkness beyond and heard the girl hurriedly shut and lock the door. Almost immediately he heard someone run by.
“Is he hurt?” the girl asked.
“He’s shot in the arm.”
“Stay here. I’ll get a light.”
“Aren’t women wonderful?” Johnny muttered. “Everytime I get into a jam there’s a woman to help me out.” He leaned more heavily against Ken. “I feel like hell. I think I’m going to pass out…”
He slumped suddenly nearly pulling Ken over, then he slid to the ground.
The girl came quickly down the steep flight of stairs, holding a flickering candle above her head.
“I think he’s fainted,” Ken said.
“Can you carry him up? I have a room at the head of the stairs.”
Ken managed to get Johnny across his shoulder and he staggered up the stairs after the girl, who lit the way.
He got Johnny into a small room, lit only by an oil lamp.
“Put him on the bed.”
When he had lowered Johnny on to the bed, he turned to look at the girl and he saw with a sense of shock it was the girl he had met in the amusement arcade.
“Hello, handsome,” she said, smiling at him. “So you’re still in trouble.” She handed him the oil lamp. “Hold it so I can take a look at him.”
Too surprised to say anything, Ken held the oil lamp while she quickly cut away Johnny’s coat sleeve and shirt. The sight of the blood and the torn flesh sickened him.
“It could be worse, but I’ve to stop that bleeding,” she said calmly. She moved quickly across the room, filled a basin of water, went to a cupboard and pulled out a couple of towels and came back to the bed.
In an astonishingly short time she had got the bleeding under control and had bandaged Johnny’s arm.
“That’s fixed it,” she said as she began to clear away the blood-stained rags. “He’ll be okay now.”
Ken set down the lamp on the table. While she had been working on Johnny he had been uneasily listening to the noises going on outside. He heard police whistles, distant shouting and sirens, and he guessed the alley and the surrounding buildings were being cordoned off.
He had to get in touch with Adams.
As soon as the girl had finished clearing up, he said, “I must use the telephone. Have you got one?”
“Does it look like it?” she said impatiently. “There’s a pay boom at the end of the alley, but you’d better not use that.”
“I must get him away from here. If they found him here you’d get into trouble,” Ken said anxiously.
The girl laughed.
“Be your age, handsome,” she said. “What do I care? I’m never out of trouble.”
“But you don’t understand. He shot a policeman. He probably killed him.”
“So what? My brother killed two cops,” the girl said in-differently. “They’re fair game, aren’t they ?”
Ken looked helplessly at her.
“I must get him away from here !”
“Relax. You can’t go yet. They’re out there like a swarm of bees. Sit down.
I’ll make some coffee.” She bent over Johnny. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He won’t be able to move yet.”
Ken sat down. He suddenly felt exhausted. While she made coffee he listened to the uproar going on outside.
“They’re certain to come here,” he said uneasily. “They’ll search every building.”
“Oh, forget it!” she said impatiently. “They’re not here yet.”
II
Standing in the shadows, Raphael Sweeting watched the night clerk at the reception desk as he idly turned the pages of the evening newspaper.
Sweeting hadn’t expected to find a night clerk on duty at Maddox Court. He was sure the clerk wouldn’t let him upstairs if he saw him, and he thought it unwise to walk in boldly and ask for Gilda at this hour.
But he had infinite patience. He waited, holding Leo close to him, while he leaned his fat shoulders against the pillar. He had to wait twenty minutes before the opportunity he was hoping for came.
The clerk suddenly glanced at his wrist-watch, dropped the paper on the desk, and went into a room immediately behind the desk.
Sweeting was through the revolving doors in a flash. He scuttled across the thick pile carpet that covered the lobby floor and darted up the stairs and around the bend as the clerk came out of the room.
Sweeting waited, listening; then, hearing nothing to alarm him, he went on up the stairs.
It took him some moments to work out where apartment 45 was located in this vast building, and eventually found to his dismay that it was on the top floor.
He was tempted to use the elevator, but decided against the risk. There would be an indicator on the ground floor, and the clerk might wonder who was using the elevator. So Sweeting toiled up the stairs. By the time he had reached the sixth floor, he was sweating and puffing.
The time was now ten minutes to twelve. What a flop it would be, he thought, as he stood outside Gilda’s front door, if she were out. He dug his grimy thumb into the bell-push and held it there.
After a slight delay he heard someone coming, and a moment later the door opened.
Gilda stared blankly at him. She was wearing a pale blue neglige trimmed with blue mink. Her bare feet were thrust into blue-quilted slippers. She made a quick movement to shut the door, but Sweeting had had too many doors slammed in his face in the past not to be ready for such a move. His foot was already against the bottom of the door.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Dorman,” he said, with his oily smile. “I’ve come about Maurice Yarde and your brother.”
With satisfaction he watched her turn pale. Frightened women were always easy to handle.
“Who are you?” she said, still pressing the door against his foot.
“My name is Raphael Sweeting. I am a friend of your brother. He may have mentioned me.” Sweeting said. “Perhaps I might step inside? I have had a most tiring day and I would be glad to sit down.”
“You can’t come in. I can’t see you now. Please go away!”
Sweeting smiled.