Get a Load of This

     Hienie reached out and slid back the small panel that divided the ambulance from the cab. He put his head through the foot-square aperture and blinked into the faintly lit ambulance. He touched an electric switch by his hand, and a brilliant light went on.

     Joe said furiously: “Lay off. You can't do this.”

     Hienie ignored him. He looked curiously at the bunk that ran the length of the ambulance. Someone was lying there covered by a rug.

     He leant further forward. “Hey!” he called. “Let's have a look at you.”

     The figure stirred and then slowly sat up. Although the applejack had given him plenty of courage, he felt a little chill run through him as the woman moved. He had always had a fear of things he couldn't understand. Madness scared him more than most things. He got a hell of a shock when she sat up. He had vaguely pictured her to be old and horrible to look at, only because he had associated madness with decay.

     This dame was something to look at. She was not only a beauty, but she had everything. Her colouring, the sleepy passion in her eyes, the small, full, heavily rouged lips and the soft, golden lustre of her hair. Her beauty hit Hienie like a physical blow. He peered at her, his jaw a little slack and his bloodshot eyes glassy. “For God's sake!” he said in a low tone.

     She looked at him, a puzzled interested expression on her face. “Who are you?” she asked, then, hurriedly: “Please get me out of here.”

     Hienie was so confused that he jerked back and slammed the panel shut. Feebly, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his damp hands.

     Joe said angrily: “What the hell do you think you're doin'?”

     Hienie looked at him. “Wait a moment. That dame's no more crazy than I am. What's the game?”

     Joe began to stutter. “I don't know what you're talkin' about. I tell you she's not only nutty but she's goddam dangerous. You can't go by how a dame looks. It ain't her looks that're wrong, it's her mind—get it?”

     Hienie nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, sliding his hand behind him and pulling his gun. “Listen, pal, how come you're travellin' alone with this dame?”

     Joe hastily shifted his eyes., “I'm givin' you a lift. That's all that'll interest you.” He reached forward to start the engine, but Hienie rammed his gun into his ribs.

     “Hold it, lug,” he said viciously. “Spill it, or I'll start somethin'.”

     Joe shifted uneasily. “The nurse oughtta've come along, but she wanted to make the journey on the train with her boy friend. So I fixed it for them. It's against regulations, but they knew the girl was safe with me.”

     Hienie sneered. “What a yarn! Say, I could have cooked up a better tale in half the time. I'm on to you, hophead. This ain't no nut wagon. You ain't no nut hand—this is a snatch, ain't that right?”

     Joe's eyes bulged. “You're crazy.”

     “That's what you think. I'm goin' to see what cherry-pie's got to say.” He slid back the panel.

     The girl still sat on the bunk. She was looking scared now. As soon as she saw him she said frantically: “Let me out! Please! I'm not mad! He keeps saying I am, but I'm not. Don't you believe me—do I look mad?”

     Hienie shook his head. “Keep your pants on, sister,” he said soothingly. “I just want a little talk with this guy here, an' then you'll be O.K. Take it easy. It ain't goin' to be long.” He slid back the panel and looked at Joe. “So what?” he said.

     Joe flapped his hands. “Don't listen to her,” he said feverishly. “Don't I keep tellin' you she's nuts?”

     Hienie sneered. “A dish as hot as that ain't bugs,” he said. “Come on, lug, spill it. This dame ain't crazy. Who is she? Who're you workin' for?”

     Joe clutched his head. Sweat ran down his face, and his eyes rolled feverishly. “For Gawd's sake don't do anythin',” he gasped. “I tell you she's pullin' a fast one. Don't let her get away. I'll lose my job.”

     “Who is she?”

     “Marie van Drutten. The banker's daughter.”

     “Listen, I've heard of that guy. He never had a nutty daughter, but he's got a load of dough. What's the ransom, buddy?”

     “There ain't any ransom,” Joe said earnestly. “Van Drutten's hushing this up. He don't want anyone to know she's gone nuts. He's given out she's in Europe or some place. Now do you get it?”

     Hienie half believed him. His mind began to work from another angle. “A mighty slick yarn. Listen, Joe, people don't just go crazy. What's it all about?”

     Joe shook his head. “Gee! I can't tell you that. It'd cost me my job.”

     Hienie put some more weight on his gun arm. “You can either spill it or get out an' walk. Suit yourself. If it sounds reasonable I'll take off the heat and you can forget about this; but if you ain't comin' clean, I'll take a chance an' let the dame go—suit yourself.”

     Joe groaned. “Don't do that, I tell you she's dangerous!”

     “So is Sally Rand, so is Mae West, so what?” Hienie snarled. “Suit yourself, but you're goin' to walk if you don't come clean.”

     Joe blotted his face with his sleeve. “You gotta keep your mouth shut,” he said; “old man Drutten'll go crazy himself if this gets out.”