“That’s the guy,” Danby said. “His name is Lam. He told me if he didn’t get out inside of an hour to call a friend.”
Channing said, laughing, “That’s a shame. He left a message for you and I intended to deliver it, but I had no idea it was — Why, he said you were his chauffeur.”
“What did he say?”
“Lam found the man he wanted to see here and they went out the back way. He thought at first this fellow might make trouble and that’s why he told you about calling the friend. But there wasn’t any trouble and Lam left. Seems he’s a private detective. I didn’t know whether you knew. I’ve known Lam for ten years and he’s all right, straight as a string.”
“What was his trouble with Mr. Catlin?” Danby asked.
“No trouble with Catlin. Catlin was helping Lam. Catlin was to point out the guy Lam wanted. I should have notified you sooner, but I’ve been busy. Lam told me to tell you either to drive the car back to the yacht club, or to telephone for a taxicab, whichever you wanted to do. He left me five dollars to give you to pay for the cab. He’s been gone about twenty minutes.”
“Do I get the five-spot if I drive the car back to the yacht club or only if I take a taxi?” Danby asked.
I knew then I was sunk. There was no use waiting to hear any more. I started prowling, trying to find a way out.
I looked around the desk for buttons I could press that would unlatch the door. I tried to remember just what Channing had been doing before he streaked across the office.
Abruptly the door swung open. I felt certain I’d pressed the right button and was halfway across the office before I realized the door was being opened from the outside.
Bill was coming back in. Apparently Channing had given him a signal.
Bill grinned at me and said, “Sit down, Lam.”
I tried to duck around past him and grab the door before it closed.
Bill snaked out an arm, caught me by the back of the coat, spun me around, clamped his fingers around my sore wrist, and said, “Right in that chair, Lam.”
I hit him in the stomach with everything I had. Sheer surprise made him recoil. That and the force of the blow gave me freedom for a second. I threw myself against the door which had been slowly swinging shut.
Bill charged, but I had the door open and was out in the reception room, running across it with Bill in hot pursuit.
The door opened.
Bill yelled a warning. I flung myself into the opening just as Channing started in. I hit Channing as though he had been a line of scrimmage.
My momentum plowed him back, but I was slowed up enough for Bill’s long arm to reach out. His fingers grabbed the back of my coat collar.
Something hit me on the side of the head. A wave of blackness came up from my stomach. The bitter of nausea was in my mouth and my knees went limp.
I tried to hang onto the doorknob, turning around, jerking my head back as I did so.
I had a glimpse of Bill, his arm upraised, a blackjack looped around his wrist. There was no expression on his face. He even looked slightly bored.
Then the arm chopped down.
There was a blinding flash inside my brain and the floor smacked my face.
Chapter Seventeen
I had no idea what time it was when I regained consciousness. I was sprawled on a bed in a cheap, dingy bedroom equipped with an iron bedstead, a chair, a dresser, a washstand, and a wardrobe closet.
It was the sort of cheap furniture that could have been picked up at a secondhand store, completely different from the sumptuous, synthetic elegance of the gambling house — and yet a subconscious feeling existed that I was still within the confines of the gambling house.
Bill was sitting in a chair reading one of the so-called true detective magazines. The chair was almost directly beneath a single electric light hanging from a twisted green drop cord and covered with a green shade.
I moved my head and the room started rocking around as though it were a cabin on a boat in a heavy sea.
I felt sick.
Bill turned a page in the magazine, then looked over at me as a precautionary measure, saw my eyes were open, pushed a thick forefinger in between the pages of the magazine to mark his place, put the magazine down, and grinned. “How you feelin’, buddy?”
“Rotten.”
“You’ll feel better after a while.”
He got up out of the chair, picked a bottle from the dresser, unscrewed the top, and held it under my nose.
It was a smelling salt that did a great deal to revive me.
“Now, just take it easy,” Bill cautioned sympathetically. “You ain’t hurt bad. Just roughed up a bit. You’ll be all right.”
Gradually the throbbing left my head. The room steadied down and my head settled into a dull, constant ache with a sore spot above and back of my right ear that felt like a boil.
“What’s the idea?” I asked.
Bill read a couple more interesting paragraphs in the magazine before he looked up to answer the question. “I’m not supposed to talk.”
“What are you supposed to do?”
“Keep you right here.”
I said, “That could be pretty serious, you know, in case I wanted to get up and walk out.”
“How come?”
“Kidnapping.”
He grinned. “Save your breath, buddy.”
I swung around to a sitting position on the bed.
Bill watched me with quizzical interest.
I slowly got up.
Bill put down the magazine. “Now, listen, Lam,” he said, “you’re a nice egg but you’ve got yourself poured into the wrong pan. You’ve led with your chin and you should be smart enough to know that that’s going to make trouble.”
“What’s Channing planning to do?” I asked.
“I don’t think he’s made up his mind yet.”
“He’s got to let me go sometime.”
The smile left Bill’s face. “Don’t be too sure about that. You don’t know some of the things I know.”
“What?”
“I told you I’m not talking. Now, shut up. I’m going to read. I won’t talk, and I don’t want to listen.”
“You’re working for Channing, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Like your job?”
“I’m getting by all right.”
“Loyalty is a fine thing,” I said, “but self-preservation is the first law of nature. You’d better start thinking about yourself.”
He laughed a heavy, mirthless laugh. “Look who’s talking. You’re You should have done that before you ever came into the joint.”
I said, “Do you think I’m foolish enough to have gone into this place unless I knew what I was doing?”
I saw interest in his eyes. “You were probably just taking a big chance.”
I said, “Don’t kid yourself. You know what’s been going on in the background. Gabby Garvanza wanted to muscle in on the situation up here. Gabby Garvanza got put on the spot and stopped a lot of lead. The trouble was the fellow who did the job was a little nervous and the bullets weren’t put in the right places to do the job.
“Now Gabby Garvanza’s well and he’s up here in San Francisco. What do you suppose he came up here for?”
Bill closed the magazine.
I said, “The real owner of this joint was George Tustin Bishop. Channing was simply the front who handled the accounts and juggled the figures around.
“Maurine Auburn had been Bishop’s girlfriend. He threw her over when he divorced his wife and married Irene, the strip-tease artist. Bishop was getting rid of both his wife and his mistress at the same time. That’s how wrapped up he was in Irene. Maurine took up with Gabby Garvanza, but she’d always carried a torch for George Bishop.