Black Mask (Vol. 22, No. 2 — Mary 1939)

The Major fired again. At least he thought that he did. Then the gun fell from his hand as something thudded upon his head. His little eyes grew dim. But he spoke before he slid from the chair.

“Holt! Clay Holt,” was all that he said before he fell unconscious.

Clay stood, legs far apart, above the unconscious man. Then he pulled handcuffs from his pocket, jerked the Major’s arms behind his back, and snapped the irons upon his wrists. One look at Davis — and he turned to Una. “Davis is dead,” he said. “And you, in a way, I suppose, helped save my life. He was going to kill you. Why?”

“I work for Wilburt.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I could like you, Clay. I would have telephoned Wilburt, but I knew the Major suspected me.”

“These men here in this room made my entrance through the second-story window possible. I thrust Davis forward just in time to save you.”

She nodded. “They were here to take my life. I am most deeply grateful for your saving me — by accident or design. As for me, I work for my living. I have been close to death before, but never so close as this time.” And suddenly, “But you were to come by the basement. Muriel Van Eden was to trap you there.”

“I know. But I imagined Muriel was forced to make the call, so I didn’t come as she told me. Her instructions were too precise.”

“She’s worse than you think, Clay. You will forgive her and let her go free because she is a woman and weak. I will forgive her and let her go free because it will please those who hire me. But the men below, the two who were to overpower or kill you, must have heard the Major’s shot. I am in authority now. They know nothing of the Major’s suspicion of me. I will order them to leave. Listen! There are voices beyond the dining-room. Stay here.”

But Clay did not stay there. He kept back in darkness and heard her speak to the men. They mumbled back to her from cellar steps but he heard her clearly.

She was saying: “You say a woman came instead of a man. But it doesn’t matter. Your orders are to leave. Clay Holt has been disposed of. Good night. Leave the girl as she is.”

Three minutes later Clay, gun in hand, followed Una to the cellar. They crossed in the dim light of his pocket flash to a plain wooden door. Una opened the door, said: “Look.”

In the corner was Muriel Van Eden. She was tied in a chair. Una whispered: “Muriel was to tear a hand free and grab you when you leaned over to free her. Then those men were to overpower you.”

Muriel cried out: “No, Clay! No. They’re going to kill you.”

“I wonder,” said Una, “if her change of heart is an honest change or does she — but, no, she’s not bright enough for that.”

But Clay wasn’t paying any attention. His pocket-flash had swept about that little store room. In the dimness of a corner another girl was strapped in a chair — a girl with a gag in her mouth.

“Awful!” Clay was across the room, jerked free the gag. “You suspected and came for me!”

Agatha gasped as Clay cut loose the ropes. “Suspect? I knew and I came. They grabbed me and bound me, but not before I told Muriel Van Eden they intended to kill you. Don’t you see, Clay? She’s just weak.”

Clay cut the Van Eden girl loose. He didn’t let her finish her speech. She got just as far as:

“I never suspected the whole truth. I’m married to Davis and my father—”

“Get out!” Clay jerked her to her feet and led her to the door above. “It would kill your father if he knew. Don’t tell him.” And when she turned and put beseeching eyes upon him, “Get a regular guy to fall in love with. Widows are attractive, you know. That’s right. Your husband, Arnold Davis, is dead.”

The girl tottered by the door. Agatha started toward her. But Una stepped between them, said:

“She doesn’t fully understand. I think I’ll take her home and talk with her.” She came back to Clay, whispered: “You don’t have to worry about Davis’ body. But what of the Major?”

Clay’s lips broadened. “I’m in business as you are, Una. When you report to Wilburt, tell him I want that check. It’s for ten thousand dollars.”

“You’re going to kill him, there on the floor?”

Clay stared at her. “Your job is finished. We work separately and alone. Just tell him that the Major is returning home and to send the check.”

He watched Una out the door, turned and looked at Agatha. Her hair was disheveled, her glasses hung down over her nose, her coat was torn; and suddenly her glasses fell to the floor. Clay’s eyes widened as she stood and faced him.

It was a minute later that he heard the groaning. Agatha’s feet hit the floor with a thud. Her whole body jarred. She picked up her glasses and followed Clay up into the living room. The Major was struggling to his feet. She stretched a hand toward Clay’s fist, drew it back, said nothing, even when the Major sank unconscious to the floor again.