I'll Get You For This

  I left him arguing with himself, and entered the dark lobby. This time I'd brought a flashlight from the car. I looked into the various rooms that led off the lobby. They were undisturbed, but when I came to the last door at the end of the passage, I found what I expected to find. The room was Brodey's study. It was big and well-furnished and equipped like an office. Here, a search had been made. Papers were strewn on the floor, desk drawers Herrick's place. The chairs hadn't been ripped open, nor had the pictures been taken off the walls.

  There was no one in the room, and I stood looking round, wondering what to do next. It was a big house to go over; I didn't know how many servants were sleeping upstairs: but I had to know if Brodey was dead.

  As I turned to the door I heard or sensed something which made me feel I wasn't alone. I snapped off the flashlight and stood motionless, listening. I heard nothing. The room was as black as tar. I eased the Luger out, and held it down by my side. Still no sound. I crept cautiously to the door, reached it. Nothing happened. I stood listening. No developments. I touched the door, peeped into the passage. It was dark out there and silent. I kept still, listened, and tried to see through the darkness. I stayed there a long minute, listening. There wasn't a sound in the house, nor in the street outside, yet I was sure I wasn't alone. I could sense the presence of someone, and that someone wasn't far off.

  I waited, hoping whoever it was out there had weaker nerves than I had. It was a nasty business standing half in and half out of the room in darkness and silence, waiting for someone's nerve to crack.

  Then I heard something. It was an almost soundless sound, and at first I couldn't place it. After listening carefully I realized it was someone breathing near me. It gave me a spooked feeling.

  Slowly I raised my flash until it was pointing in the direction of the breathing. Then I pressed the button, ready to jump if someone opened up with a gun.

  The harsh beam of the flashlight lit up the passage. There was a choked gasp of terror which made the hair on the back of my neck bristle. I found myself staring at a girl crouched against the passage wall. She was slight, young, about eighteen, pretty in an immature way; chestnut hair, brown eyes. She was wearing a black and gold kimono and the trousers of her pyjamas were dark blue silk.

  She stayed motionless, her eyes empty with terror, her mouth formed in a soundless scream.

  I guessed she was Brodey's daughter.

  "Miss Brodey," I said sharply. "It's all right. I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm looking for your father."

  She shivered and her eyes rolled up. Before I could move she had slipped to the floor. I bent over her. She was out cold.

  I slipped the Luger back into its holster and picked her up.

  She was thin and light, and I could feel her ribs under the silk kimono. I carried her into the study and put her on the settee.

  Silence brooded over the house. I wondered if there was anyone else in the place.

  I went to the front door, but Davis wasn't in sight. I found him by the car, his head back and

the bottle to his mouth. I moved silently up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got you!" I said in a gruff voice.

  Davis didn't jump more than a couple of feet, and hollered, "Yow-ee!" He nearly swallowed the bottle. I took it away from him with one hand, thumped him on his beefy back with the other. After a while he recovered from his choking fit.

  "You loon," he gasped. "You scared me silly."

  "Come on," I said. "I want you."

  "Don't tell me you've dug up another corpse?" he asked, alarmed.

  "Not yet, but Brodey's daughter has thrown an ing-bing. She's nice, and she's got on a kimono."

  "Japanese style, eh?" he said, interested. "Well, maybe I'd better come at that."

  Miss Brodey was lying where I had left her. She looked small and pathetic.

  "The idea is to put her head between her knees and a key on the back of her neck," Davis said, combing his hair.

  "That's for nose bleed, you dope," I said. "At least, the key part of it is."

  "Well, give her some Scotch," he advised. "I bet Brodey's got a bottle somewhere around."

  He found it after a short, intensive search, took a long swig himself.

  "Not bad," he said, shaking his head at the bottle. "Lawyers always do themselves well."

  I sampled the Scotch too. He was right.

  "Well, come on," Davis said. "This is no time for boozing. Let's get this kid on her feet. Scraggy little thing, ain't she?"

  "She'll ripen," I said, and lifted the girl's head. I forced whisky between her clenched teeth. It brought her round after a while, and her eyes fluttered at me.

  "Bet she asks where she is," Davis muttered. "They always do."

  But she didn't. She took one look at me and dived off the settee to the wall. She gave us the fright of our lives. "Now take it easy," I said.