I'll Bury My Dead Part 8

The girl wriggled out of his grasp. He made a vain grab at her, got a grip on her coat, held her for a second, then she slipped out of the coat, leaving it in his hands. She began a staggering run down the street.

aWhatas going on here?a a voice demanded, and a red-faced cop materialized out of the shadows.

This guyas trying to kidnap this girl, the driver said, pointing to the girl, who had stopped running and had turned to look back. The street light fell directly on her, and the cop drew in a sharp breath.

aShe canat show herself in the street like that,a he said angrily. aIt ainat decent.a Leon threw down the coat in disgust.

aTwo guys are gunning for that girl. I want to get her someplace safe,a he said to the cop. aItas okay with me if youall arrest her just so long as she doesnat go back to her apartment.a The cop stared at him suspiciously.

aWhat two guys?a he demanded.

aHeas lying, boss,a the driver said anxiously. aHe was going to hit her but I stopped him. Heas got doped cigarettes, and heas trying to kidnap her.a aAw, shut up!a Leon said angrily. He turned to the cop. aLetas you and me go and talk to the girl. Letas all go down to the station. We can sort it out there.a aYou stick right here,a the cop said to the driver. aYou come with me,a he went on to Leon, aand no funny business or youall need a new skull.a The two of them started down the street. When the girl saw them coming, she turned and ran. She kept in the middle of the street, and she ran toward the car parked near the curb by the man with the scar. When she was within twenty yards of it, Leon saw the shadowy outline of a man move out of a nearby doorway.

aLook out!a he shouted to the cop. aThat guy over there!a The cop slowed and came to a stop.

aWhat guy?a Leon sprinted on, pulling the gun he had picked up from his hip pocket. The girl suddenly stopped running, turned and faced him as he came rushing down the street. She was breathing heavily, her hands clasped over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

A spurt of yellow flame came from the doorway, then a crash of gunfire.

The girl screamed, and Leon yelled to her to drop flat. He fired into the doorway as the cop came pounding up, gun in hand. Another shot came from the doorway and Leon felt the slug fan air against his face. He swerved away out of the light of the street lamp. The cop dropped flat and fired into the doorway. His gun cracked three times.

From out of the shadows on the opposite side of the street to the doorway came gunfire. The dark night was lit by gun flashes.

The cop arched his back, flopped, levered himself off the ground, remained for a second or so on hands and knees, then his cap fell off as he flattened out, blood running down the side of his face. His fingers slackened on his gun. Leon scrambled behind a garbage can and fired twice into the shadows where the shots had come from. The fat man came out into the light, bent double, his hands pressing his belly. He walked two or three paces, then his knees folded and he spread out face down on the sidewalk.

Leon looked toward the girl.

She stood motionless in the middle of the road, her hands now over her mouth. She didnat seem to have been hit, and he yelled at her to get down.

He saw a movement in the doorway opposite him, caught a glint of steel as the man with the scar lifted his gun to fire at the girl. Leon fired a split second before the other got his gun up.

The man with the scar dropped the gun, ran out into the street, holding his right wrist. Leon fired at him again, but missed. The man with the scar ducked behind the parked car.

Cautiously Leon straightened.

The girl turned and began to run blindly down the street again.

Leon hesitated, undecided whether to go after the girl or tackle the man with the scar. He decided to go after the girl. She was running fast and had a hundred yards start. He increased his stride and pelted after her.

People were coming out of their houses now, standing cautiously at their front doors, peering into the street.

Two men ran out of a house and threw themselves on Leon, bringing him to the ground.

aLet me go!a he raved, hitting out. aIave got to stop that girl!a aYouall wait until the cops come,a one of the men panted as he clung to Leon. The other, a small, determined man in shirtsleeves, struggled to hold on to Leonas left arm. Leon flung him off and crashed his fist into the other manas face, bowling him over.

He scrambled to his feet and went down the street like a bullet out of a gun, but he had lost sight of the girl now. The long, badly lit street was empty except for faces at the windows and people staring from the balconies.

The girl ran blindly until she reached an alley which she knew would bring her to the back of the entrance of No. 23. She spurted, crossing the street and entered the alley. She was gasping for breath as she ran. Her one idea was to get back to her apartment and lock herself in.

The alley was dark and narrow. It stretched out before her like a long, black tunnel. She ran for about twenty yards, then stopped abruptly, her nerve suddenly failing as she felt the darkness close in on her. She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, too frightened to run back the way she had come. Too frightened even to scream. She imagined something moved near her, and she stared into the darkness, her heart hammering so violently she felt she was suffocating.

aIave been waiting for you, May,a a manas voice said close to her, and she felt warm breath against her cheek, breath that had the sickly sweet smell of chewing gum. She felt her body freeze and her spirit seemed to start out of her body in a desperate, panic-stricken effort to run away. aI though you would come this way,a the voice went on. aSo I waited.a Out of the darkness a hand touched her arm and fingers closed around her wrist. aWe didnat want you to talk, May,a the voice continued. aYou know rather too much about me. I told Penn and Fats to shut your pretty mouth but theyave made a mess of it. I always seem to have to do these jobs myself.a A cold ball of fear began to uncoil inside her, rising in her throat in a wild, terrified scream. As she released the scream she felt an agonizing pain before her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her groping hands closed over his hand that held something that seemed to be growing out of her.

aWhat have you done to me?a she screamed, trying to tear his hand away. aWhat have you done?a His hand went away, and her hands closed around the cold, ivory handle of a knife and she realized with sick terror that the blade was inside her. She leaned against the wall, sweat running down her face, her knees sagging, feeling the pain as it moved inside her as if it were alive. She was too frightened to pull out the knife. She held on to the handle, crying weakly as she felt her life draining out of her.

III.

Nick English was still pacing his study floor when Ed Leon came in. Leon wandered over to an armchair, sank into it and pushed his hat to the back of his head.

aJay-sus! What an evening Iave had,a he said. aIf thereas a drink handy I could do with it.a English crossed to the cellarette and made two large whiskies.

aWhereas the girl?a he asked as he brought the drinks to the desk.

aI m.u.f.fed it,a Leon said, took the gla.s.s and drank half the whisky. aRight at this minute sheas in the morgue, poor kid.a He put down his gla.s.s and grimaced.

aYou mean sheas dead?a aYep. Someone stuck a knife in her guts,a Leon returned, and went on to tell English the events of the evening.

English sat smoking, his eyes staring fixedly at the blotter on his desk, not missing a word.

aSomeone was waiting for her in the alley,a Leon concluded. aI heard her scream, but by the time I got to her she was beyond help. Someone knifed her. He didnat leave the knife, but he did leave something more important to us.a He took from his pocket a sc.r.a.p of paper and put it on the desk. It was the wrapping of a chewing gum package. English picked it up, his eyes meeting Leonas.

aMight not mean anything,a he said quietly.

aItas my bet it does. She was lying on it. I think this guy in the brown suit gets hotter every time someone is knocked off.a English put the sc.r.a.p of paper carefully in his desk drawer.

aWhat happened when you found her?a aThe place was getting lousy with cops so I decided to duck out. The chances were I would be grabbed as the killer. I bolted down the alley, climbed a wall and picked up a cruising taxi. I got him to drop me off on Central Avenue, and I walked here.a English nodded.

aThink they picked up this man with the scar?a aMaybe. Thereas a chance they did.a aAnd the fat man?a aI think heas dead. I hit him in the belly and he didnat seem to be enjoying the experience last time I saw him.a aLooks like a gang, doesnat it?a aI guess so. Our chewing gum friend could be the boss.a aIf itas Sherman, he must be the boss,a English said grimly. aThat would make Roy the stooge. I didnat think he had it in him to organize a racket like this.a aI donat see what you can do to Sherman if he turns out to be the guy you want. Pull him into the limelight and Roy gets dragged in, too.a English nodded.

aThatas right.a He sat brooding for a long minute, then he stood up. aGo home and get some sleep, Ed. This wants working out. Iall have some ideas for you by tomorrow.a aOkay,a Leon said, finished his whisky and stood up. aI didnat get around to tracing those wires from the mike in my office. Thatas something Iall take care of tomorrow night.a English walked with him to the front door.

aIall talk to Morilli. This fat man you think you killed may have a record.a aDonat stir up too much mud,a Leon warned him. aWatch out Morilli doesnat connect your enquiry with my description. That taxi driver had a good look at me.a aIall watch it,a English said and opened the front door.

Leon stepped into the wide pa.s.sage.

The elevator that was nearly opposite Englishas door was coming up. It stopped, and a youngish man in a well-cut brown suit, a white silk handkerchief tucked up his sleeve and a brown slouch hat set squarely on his head got out. He gave Leon and English a quick, searching glance, then began to move along the pa.s.sage to the other apartment that was at the end of the pa.s.sage.

aMr. Sherman?a English said quietly.

The man in the brown suit paused. He had the most extraordinary eyes Leon had ever seen; they were amber-coloured with huge pupils, and they were as expressionless as two yellow b.u.t.tons.

aWhy, yes, Iam Sherman,a he said. His voice was low-pitched and musical, and he smiled at English, showing small, very white, even teeth. aDid you want me? Itas Nick English, isnat it?a aYou run along, Ed,a English said under his breath. aSee you tomorrow.a He went on to Sherman, aI did want a word with you. Perhaps youad care to step in for a moment?a aI wonder if you would mind coming along to my apartment?a Sherman said. aIam expecting a telephone call and itas important.a aCertainly,a English returned and closed the front door, moving along the pa.s.sage at Shermanas side.

Leon stood watching them until they paused outside Shermanas apartment, then he got into the elevator and thumbed the b.u.t.ton to take him to the ground floor. He made an uneasy grimace as the elevator began to descend. Sherman unlocked his front door, reached forward and turned on the light, then stood aside.

aPlease go ahead, Mr. English.a English walked into an ornate lobby that seemed full of flowers. He turned and watched Sherman close the door.

Sherman hung his hat on the rack, ran a small white hand over his flaxen hair and opened the door facing him. He reached in and pressed light b.u.t.tons, and lights sprang up in the room.

He stood aside, motioning English to enter.

English walked into the room.

It took a lot to startle him, but this room brought him to an abrupt halt, and he stood staring around, his face clearly showing his astonishment. It was a big room. English was aware first of a feeling of s.p.a.ce - a vast stretch of polished floor spread out before him. There was no carpet or rugs to break up that stretch of flooring. It seemed to go on and on until it finished up against long black velvet drapes that covered the windows.

A white corded settee and two white corded lounge chairs cringed in the empty s.p.a.ce. In the alcove by the window stood a baby grand piano. There was a big fireplace where a log fire burned brightly, and on either side of it stood six-foot high black candles with small electric lamps imitating candle flames. Against one side of the room was a life-size replica of Michelangeloas Pieta, his first masterpiece, which is now in St. Peter s, Rome. The walls were covered with black velvet drapes, but Englishas eyes kept going to the Pieta, which stood out against the black background startlingly white in its simplicity and beauty.

There was a faint smell of incense in the room and the concealed lighting created an atmosphere that made English think of a crypt. He felt Sherman was watching him, and he quickly controlled his astonishment.

aAs a showman, Mr. English, you should appreciate this room,a Sherman said, moving over to the fire. aAt least, it is original, isnat it? Of course not many people would care to live in it, but then Iam not like most people.a aI agree with you,a English said dryly. aThatas a fine piece of sculpture.a aIt is a good copy,a Sherman returned, and took from his pocket a package of chewing gum. English saw the paper wrapper was identical with the piece he had in his desk drawer. aA young Italian student did it for me. He has caught Michelangeloas mood remarkably well. It was Michelangeloas greatest work. It was the only piece of sculpture he put his name to. If you look closely you will see his name written on the girdle that crosses the Virginas breast. Are you interested in art, Mr. English?a aI can appreciate art,a English returned, waving his hand to the Pieta, abut I canat say art really interests me. I havenat had the opportunity to study the subject. But I mustnat keep you. I wanted to ask you if you called on the news service agency at 1356 7th Street on the 17th of this month.a Sherman slowly unpeeled the wrapping on the gum package, his expressionless eyes on Englishas face.

aI believe I did,a he said. aI canat be sure if I went there on the 17th, but it was some evening this week. It could be the 17th, come to think of it. How very odd you should ask.a aI have a reason for asking,a English said. aYou went there about ten fifteen?a aIt is possible. It was something like that. I didnat particularly notice.a aAt about that time my brother committed suicide,a English said, his eyes on Shermanas face. aHe shot himself.a Sherman lifted his eyebrows.

aHow very unpleasant for you,a he said, taking a piece of gum from the package and putting it into his mouth. aIam sorry.a aDid you hear a shot when you were in the building?a aSo it was a shot,a Sherman said. aI did hear something and it crossed my mind it was a shot, but I finally decided it must have been a car backfiring.a aWhere were you when you heard the shot?a aI was coming up in the elevator.a aDid you see anyone in the sixth-floor pa.s.sage or coming out of my brotheras office?a aHad your brother an office on the sixth floor?a Sherman asked. aThere is a detective agency and the news service agency on that floor, if I remember rightly. Where would your brotheras office be?a aHe owned the detective agency.a Shermanas jaw moved rhythmically.

aDid he? Thatas interesting. I had no idea your brother was a detective,a he said, and his tone implied that he didnat think anything of detectives.

aDid you see anyone near my brotheras office?a English repeated.

Sherman frowned.

aWhy, yes. Come to think of it, I did. I saw a girl up there. She was wearing a rather smart black and white outfit. I remember thinking for the type of girl she so obviously was, she had an unexpected flair for clothes.a With an expressionless face, English asked, aAnd what type of girl was she Mr. Sherman?a Sherman smiled.

aWell, shall we say a little tarty? The type of girl who wouldnat have too many ethics. One of my coa.r.s.er friends would probably describe her as a surefire pushover.a Englishas eyes were cold and hard as he said, aAnd this girl was in the pa.s.sage when you came up in the elevator?a aThatas right. She was walking away from the detective agency, making for the stairs.a aYou saw no one else?a aNo.a aHow long would you say it was between the time you heard the shot and saw the girl?a aAbout five seconds.a aWell, thanks,a English said, suddenly realizing where Shermanas answers were leading to. aI guess I wonat keep you any longer. Youave told me all I wanted to know.a aThatas fine,a Sherman said. aI suppose your brother did commit suicide, Mr. English?a aThatas what I said,a English returned curtly.

aYes, so you did. But detectives do appear to lead dangerous lives. That is if you are to believe the novels written about them. I wonder if your brother discovered something unpleasant about this girl and she shot him to silence him. Itas possible, isnat it?a English smiled bleakly.

aMy brother shot himself, Mr. Sherman.a Sherman nodded.

aOf course. Iam letting my imagination run away with me. But there have been cases where a man has been murdered and the crime has been written off as a suicide. But this seems unlikely in your brotheras case as you appear to be so certain he did shoot himself. If you werenat so certain, Mr. English, I guess it would be my duty to tell the police about this girl I saw, or perhaps you donat agree?a aThere is no doubt whatsoever that my brother shot himself,a English said quietly.

Sherman looked at him, his jaws moving as he chewed. He smiled pleasantly.

aWell, you know best, Mr. English. I wonder what she was doing in your brotheras office. He must have shot himself while she was actually in the room.a Englishas mouth tightened.

aDid she seem in any way distressed?a he asked.

aNo, I wouldnat say she looked distressed. She was in a hurry, as if she were running away. You are quite sure, Mr. English, that your brother wasnat murdered?a aIam quite sure.a Again Sherman nodded.

aOf course the girl could be easily traced,a he went on absently. aI should imagine she worked in some nightclub. She looked like a nightclub singer.a He ran his fingers through his flaxen hair, ruffling it so he suddenly appeared almost boyish as he smiled at English. aIam an artist, Mr. English. You wouldnat know that, of course, but Iam rather clever at creating a likeness. It would be a very easy task for me to provide the police with a picture this girl. Do you think I should do that?a aThe police are satisfied that my brother shot himself,a English said quietly. aI donat think you need bother to supply them with a picture.a aAnything you say,a Sherman returned, shrugging. aI have an overdeveloped sense of duty. It can be a nuisance at times.a aThat I can understand,a English said dryly and moved toward the door. aThank you for your help.a aOnly too glad,a Sherman said, remaining where he was before the fire. He continued to chew, his hands in his pockets, his face lit by a smile. aAs a matter of fact, I have been hoping to have the opportunity of talking to you. After all, you are quite a celebrity.

aI suppose I am,a English said and reached for the door handle. aGood night, Mr. Sherman.a aI guess if the police knew about Miss Clair, it might be very awkward for her, and unpleasant for you,a Sherman said, raising his voice slightly. aAfter all, she did have a very good reason for shooting your brother, didnat she?a English turned slowly and looked at Sherman, who continued to smile. His yellow eyes reminded English of the parking lights of a car.

aMiss - who?a English asked, politely interested.

aJulie Clair, your mistress,a Sherman returned. aHer motive and my evidence could put her in jail for quite a long time. She might even go to the chair, although if she flashed her legs at the jury she would probably avoid that. But she would get at least ten years. You wouldnat like that, would you, Mr. English?a IV.

There was a pause while the two men looked at each other, then English came back slowly to the centre of the room.

aNo,a he said, speaking quietly. aI shouldnat like that. Are you quite sure the girl you saw was Miss Clair?a Sherman made a little gesture of impatience with his hand.

aI know you are a very busy man,a he said, abut you might feel inclined to discuss the situation now rather than later, but please yourself. Iam in no violent hurry.a aWhat is there to discuss?a English asked.

aWouldnat it save time if we stopped behaving like a couple of clubmen at a social gathering?a Sherman said sharply. aI own a piece of information and I am prepared to sell it to you. Thatas what thereas to discuss.a aI see,a English said, raising his eyebrows. aThis is a surprise. You have decided to drop the mask, have you? I was wondering if you would have the nerve to try to blackmail me.a Sherman smiled.

aTo me, Mr. English, you are just a rich man. Your importance and fame leave me indifferent. You have the money and I have the information. I can either sell it to you or to Miss Clair. I would prefer to sell it to you as I would be able to ask a much higher price, but if you are not inclined to make a deal, then I must go to her.a aI was under the impression you already have dealings with her,a English said mildly. aShe has been paying you two hundred dollars a week, hasnat she?a Shermanas eyes blinked, then he smiled.

aI donat usually betray a clientas confidence, but as she has obviously told you about it, then I see no harm in telling you we have a modest deal on together, but this new proposition would be a much larger deal, and it would be a cash payment, not a few hundred a week.a aI donat think she could pay.a aPossibly not, then perhaps you would come to her a.s.sistance.a English sat down, took out his cigarette case, selected a cigarette and lit it.

aWhat do you want for your information?a he asked as he flicked the match into the fire.

aFrom you, I should think a fair price would be two hundred and fifty thousand in cash,a Sherman said. aFrom her I donat suppose I could expect more than fifty thousand. But if I sold to her I couldnat guarantee that the press wouldnat discover your brother was a professional blackmailer. For the larger sum I should be able to guarantee it.a English crossed one leg over the other. He appeared quite at ease. His face expressionless, his eyes unworried.

aHow did Roy happen to get mixed up with you?a he asked.

Sherman leaned his shoulders against the mantel while he studied English, a slightly puzzled expression in his eyes.

aNeed we go into that?a he said. aWe are discussing a deal, if I may bring your mind back to business.a aThereas plenty of time to talk about that,a English returned airily. aHow did Roy happen to get mixed up with you?a Sherman hesitated then, shrugging his shoulders, he said, aYour brother was anxious to make some easy money. His agency was a convenient place for my clients to go to and settle their accounts with me without causing embarra.s.sment to either side. I paid your brother well. He collected ten percent of the gross.a aI see,a English said. aAnd he decided that ten percent wasnat enough. He attempted to help himself. Probably he held some money due to you. He was planning to go away with his secretary, Mary Savitt, and no doubt he was anxious to lay his hands on a getaway stake. I a.s.sume you found out that he was cheating you, and you decided to teach him a lesson. On the night of the 17th, you went to his office, shot him through the head with his own gun, impressed his fingerprints on the gun b.u.t.t and collected the card index containing the names of your customers before leaving. Am I right?a Sherman continued to smile, but his eyes were now wary.

aI believe something like that did happen,a he said. aNaturally you wouldnat expect me to swear to it before a jury, but between ourselves, since we are talking off the record, something very much like that did happen.a English nodded and blew smoke toward the ceiling.

aYou then went to 45th East Place where Mary Savitt had an apartment. You strangled her and strung her up against the bathroom door. I a.s.sume you silenced her because she knew what Roy had been doing and could have told the police that you had the motive for murdering him.a aI must say, Mr. English, you appear to keep yourself very well informed,a Sherman said, an acid note creeping into his voice.

aDuring the late afternoon,a English went on, aa man named Hennessey called at the Alert Agency to pay his dues. He met the present occupier, who persuaded him to talk. Somehow you managed to overhear the conversation, and you murdered Hennessey by running him down in your car. Before he died, Hennessey had mentioned a girl named May Mitch.e.l.l, who was paying you blackmail. Less than an hour ago you met her in a quiet alley and knifed her.a There was a long pause of silence while Sherman studied English. His smile was fixed now, and his eyes were uneasy.

aAll this is very interesting, Mr. English,a he said at last, abut suppose we get back to our business deal. Time is getting along. I have an appointment in half an hour.a English smiled.

aYou donat really imagine you can blackmail me, do you?a he asked.

aYes, I see no reason why not,a Sherman returned, his voice hardening. aIt would be no hardship for you to find a quarter of a million. The advantages of paying are considerable. Up to now you have made a big impression on this city. You are anxious to have the hospital named after you. You have done the city a lot of good. It would be a pity to spoil your good name because you happen to have a brother who failed to live up to your own high standards. I think you would be extremely foolish not to make a deal with me.a aBut I donat have to make a deal with you,a English said mildly. aIt is you who have to try to make a deal with me.a aWhat do you mean?a Sherman asked, frowning.

aI should have thought it was obvious. Within the past few days you have murdered four people. I hold your life in my hands.a Sherman made an impatient gesture.

aSurely that is an exaggeration. There is a considerable difference between making a guess and proving it.a aI donat need to prove it. You will have to prove you didnat kill these people.a aIam afraid weare wasting time,a Sherman said sharply. aAre you going to buy my information or do I have to go to your mistress?a English laughed.

aI had the mistaken idea that when I found the man who murdered my brother I was going to take the law into my own hands. At the back of my mind I was prepared to shoot him. I knew my brother was a weak, gutless fool, but I felt I couldnat let his murder go unrevenged. In my family we have a tradition. We bury our own dead. That is to say we prefer to deal with matters concerning the family in our own way, rather than call in outsiders. So I had made up my mind that I would find Royas murderer and deal with him myself.a He leaned forward to flick ash into the fire. aWell, I have found him, but the circ.u.mstances have changed. I have also discovered my brother was not only a cheap cheat, but he was also a blackmailer, and to me, Mr. Sherman, a blackmailer is lower than any other form of life. A man who sets out to blackmail people who have no money, as Roy did, is beyond mercy. If you hadnat killed him, then I should have. In fact, Mr. Sherman, I am moderately grateful to you for ridding me of Roy.a Shermanas face was now set, and his yellow eyes gleamed.

aAll this is very interesting, but it doesnat answer my question. Are you paying me or do I have to go to your mistress?a aIam certainly not paying you,a English said, aand Miss Clair isnat paying you, either.a aThen you give me no other alternative but to go elsewhere with my information,a Sherman said.

aNor will you take your information elsewhere,a English returned. aUp to now you have been blackmailing people who donat know how to hit back. I do. Youare like a middleweight who has rashly taken on a heavyweight, and the heavyweight is bound to win.a aThat remains to be seen,a Sherman said.

aThatas true, but you donat seem to realize what youave taken on by trying to blackmail me,a English said, stretching out his long legs. aI have a lot of money and a lot of influence. I have many useful friends. When dealing with a blackmailer I should not hesitate to throw aside all scruples. I have already told you I donat regard a blackmailer as a human being. I would treat him as I would treat a rat that happens to find its way into my room. I would exterminate him without mercy and by any means, and that is what I am prepared to do to you. I know you killed four people. At the moment I have no evidence against you that would stand up in court, but in two or three days I shall have the evidence. I have an exceedingly efficient organization. I have people who will trace some of your blackmail victims. Having found them I will guarantee them immunity plus a big financial reward if they will testify against you, and some of them will. I will then inform the police and I will let them know I would take it as a favour if they showed you no mercy. I am quite sure Lieutenant Morilli will personally take over the questioning, and he would beat you to a pulp if I offered to pay for the energy expended. It is very possible that you will break down and confess. If you happen to be tougher than you look, then the next move will be to manufacture the necessary evidence, and you will be surprised how easy it can be done. I admit it will cost money, but then I have money. It wonat be difficult to find someone willing to perjure himself for an agreed sum who will identify you as the man who drove his car over Hennessey. Someone else will be only too willing to swear he saw you murder May Mitch.e.l.l. Someone else will say he saw you leaving Mary Savittas apartment the night she died. Tom Calhoun, the janitor, will identify you as the last person to see my brother alive. Having got my perjured evidence, I shall then talk to the judge who will try you. I know all the judges in the city, and they are all anxious to do me a favour. I will arrange to see the jury before they try you, and I will promise them a reward if they bring in a guilty verdict. Once you are arrested, Mr. Sherman, I guarantee you will be dead within a few months. Make no mistake about that.a aYou donat think you can scare me, do you?a Sherman said. aI make a point always to call a bluff.a aThere comes a time when you can call a bluff once too often,a English returned. aI admit if I handed you over to the police it wouldnat be possible to keep the shabby news that my brother is a blackmailer out of the papers. I admit I would cook my own goose in this city by having you arrested, but rather than submit to blackmail or let Miss Clair submit to blackmail, I shanat hesitate to go after you, and once I do go after you, no power on earth can save you from the electric chair.a He got up abruptly and began to pace up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, his face thoughtful. aI canat allow you to remain in the city, nor can I allow you to continue to levy blackmail. I am going to make you a proposal. It doesnat suit me at the moment to hand you over to the police. Instead, you are to leave town by the end of the week. You are not to return. You are to give up your blackmailing activities. If you donat leave, and if you attempt to levy blackmail in this town again, then I shall hand you over to the police. If you think I am bluffing, go ahead and stay in this apartment and see what happens to you. If itas the last thing I do Iall have you in the electric chair within six months. That is all I have to say to you. If this apartment isnat empty by Sat.u.r.day night, you will be arrested on Sunday morning. I shall not warn you again. Get out of town by Sat.u.r.day night or take the consequences. And if you think the police will believe that Miss Clair shot my brother, go to them and tell them. They wonat react favourably. They know she is under my protection, and they wonat be anxious to make difficulties for me.a He walked to the door, opened it and paused to say, aAs I donat expect to see you again, I wonat say good night, Iall say goodbye.a Sherman had gone pale, and his yellow eyes showed his suppressed fury.

aA war is never won until the last battle, Mr. English,a he said, his voice unsteadily.

English looked at him and made a grimace of disgust.

aThis happens to be the last battle,a he said, opened the front door and walked slowly down the pa.s.sage to his own apartment.