He Won't Need it Now

     Sam stopped at the corner. “Well, I can't run around with you all day. I've got a living to make. Now, soldier, you're coming back to us tonight, ain't you?”

     “Listen, Sam, you're swell, and Alice's swell. You're both swell, but from now on, you keep out of this. I'm going my own little way, without you two popping your heads into anything I might stir up.”

     Sam groaned. “I love you like this; just a big selfish playboy. You have the fun and we're just to sit round to put on the adhesive tape. Listen, mug, we're both in this, get it?”

     Duffy grinned. It still hurt him to grin, but he grinned. “I'll be along,” he said, “I get it.”

     Sam looked pleased. “Bounce 'em, brother, bounce 'em,” he said.

     “They'll take some bouncing,” Duffy said ruefully, as he watched McGuire's long frame disappearing through the crowded traffic.

     He walked down the street, conscious of quick furtive glances at his battered face. He felt suddenly angry, his eyebrows coming down, making his face even more unattractive.

     When he reached his apartment he was glad to find the place had been cleaned up. He made a little grimace at the faint stains on the walls. He wandered through the rooms, looking at everything carefully. Then he returned to the sitting-room. He sat on the edge of the table and thought a little while.

     Cattley must have an apartment somewhere. The telephone directory gave him the information. He dialled the number opposite Cattley's name, but there was no answer.

     Going down once more into the street, he flagged a taxi and gave an address on the East side. After he had gone a little way, he glanced out of the small rear window. A big Packard was rolling along behind him.

     He thought, “Maybe I'm just jumpy,” but he watched the Packard closely. After he had been riding for several minutes he leant forward. “A bird's sitting on our tail,” he said abruptly. “It makes me nervous.”

     The taxi-driver was a big beefy Irishman. He turned his head and grinned. “Watch me shake 'em,” he said.

     Duffy gave him five minutes, then said again. “You'll have to do better than that.”

     The driver pushed the cab until it began to rattle, but the Packard just sat behind them.

     Duffy said, “He's too big for you.”

     “What you want me to do, boss?”

     Duffy fumbled for some money. He gave the driver a couple of bucks. “Drop me at the first boozer you see,” he said; “don't stop, just slow down. If they come after you you don't know where you were taking me.”

     “Like the movies, huh?”

     “Sure, you got it. Like the movies.”

     The driver suddenly crowded on his brakes and swung to the kerb. Duffy bundled out, slamming the door. He stood on the pavement, watching the cab drive on. The Packard slowed down, hesitated, then shot away at right angles, turning a corner, disappearing quickly. Duffy didn't see who was in it. He flagged another cab and told the driver to drive on for a while. When he was sure that he hadn't got the Packard on his tail, he gave the apartment address again.

     Cattley's apartment was big and showy. It was on the second floor of a large block. Duffy didn't take the elevator up, he walked. On the front door, was a small metal plate bearing Cattley's name. Duffy rang the bell. No one answered. He stood waiting. Then he rang the bell again. While he was standing there, he heard the elevator coming up. He stepped away from the door quickly and went up three stairs of the next flight. He was just out of sight from the elevator. He heard the grille slide back, and he looked round cautiously. A woman was standing in front of Cattley's door. He couldn't see who she was, but he watched her closely. There was something very familiar in her slim figure. She took a key from her handbag and opened the door. He came down the three stairs silently and walked into the room behind her.

     “Hello, baby,” he said.

     She stood quite still for a moment, then turned and faced him. Her face was a little drawn, and her eyes big.

     “You frightened me.”

     Duffy thought she had an iron nerve. “Nice to see you again,” he said.

     Annabel English looked at him. Then she put a hand quickly on his arm. “But your face,” she said, “what has happened?”

     Duffy touched his face with his finger-tips, then smiled; it was a very bleak smile. “I told you,” he said, “some toughs pushed me around.”

     “It's horrible.” She came closer to him. “They must have hurt you so.”

     Duffy shrugged. “Forget it,” he said; “what brings you up here?”

     She turned from him and wandered away across the room to the window. It was a shabby room. Duffy was quite surprised. The address was good enough, but Cattley had let the place run to seed. The furniture was old and battered and the walls needed attention. There was dust everywhere.

     Duffy stood watching her. “What brings you up here?” he repeated.

     When she reached the window she turned, so that the light was behind her. “I wanted to look round,” she said; “why are you here?”