Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

“Do you like it?” Myra asked, holding my hand firmly and smiling at me.

“Only because I trust you,” I said, taking a firmer grip on her. “Otherwise, I’d just go crazy at the thought.”

We swooped over a crowded street. I noticed a loiterer below. He glanced up casually, stiffened and then hid his face in his hands. I guess that guy would go off liquor for the rest of his days.

“Pick a quiet spot and let’s get down,” I said. “We’ll start a riot in a minute.”

We circled some buildings, spotted a deserted alley and floated gently to the ground. As we recovered our balance, we noticed an old man standing in a doorway staring at us with fixed concentration.

“Do you do that often?” he quavered, plucking nervously at his beard.

“It only happens when we’re a bit light-headed,” I returned, dusting myself down. “Think nothing of it.”

“I wish I could,” the old man said, wistfully. “It’ll haunt me for the rest of my days.”

“That won’t be long,” I said, kindly, “so it won’t be hard to bear.”

“Don’t tease him,” Myra said. “He looks as if he’s been through rather a strain.”

“I have, lady,” the old man said eagerly. “The trouble is no one will believe me,” and he went into his house and shut the door.

“Phew!” I said. “We’re lucky to get out of that.”

Myra suddenly faced me. “Did you really propose to that blonde?” she said, looking at me accusingly.

“But, darling,” I said hastily, “I thought it was you. There was a look in her eyes and…”

“You mean, I haven’t encouraged you?” Myra said seriously. “I suppose I haven’t,” and she reached up and kissed me.

“The proposal still stands,” I said, a few minutes later. “Will you consider it?”

“I will,” she said. “And now I want some undies. Will you take me somewhere where I can buy them?”

“We’ve got to be quick,” I said. “If the cops…”

“I can’t go around like this,” Myra said firmly. “We’ve just got to take a chance.”

At the end of the alley, I spotted a taxi and I waved. Just as we go in, Whisky came bounding up. He scrambled in as we drove off.

Chapter SEVENTENN

“WHERE to, boss?” the driver asked, as soon as we had settled down.

“Keep driving,” I returned, shoving Whisky’s foot out of my chest. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had time to think.”

Myra and Whisky were making a great fuss over each other, and I had to tell Whisky that when I wanted his tongue over my face I’d let him know.

“It’s certainly nice to see you again,” Whisky said, panting with excitement. “I’d given you both up for lost.”

“We’d given ourselves up for lost,” I said, taking Myra’s hand. “It’s a good thing you learned to float, sugar.”

“You know, I just can’t help it,” Myra said apologetically. “But I must get some undies. I just haven’t any confidence without them.”

“What have you done with them?” Whisky asked, pricking up his ears.

“Don’t tell him,” I pleaded. “It’ll take too long. Never mind about your undies. The cops are looking for you. They’ve only to hear I’ve been seen with a blonde and a dog and they’ll come after us like bats out of hell.”

“Very well,” Myra said, settling back. “But you’ve no idea how it preys on my mind.”

“The point to concentrate on is where do we go from here?” I said.

“That, I think, is for you to decide,” Myra said, slipping her hand into mine. “I’ll go where you say.”

“I’ve got to put you in some place where the cops won’t find you. Then I’ve got to get hold of Arym.”

“Who’s Arym?” Myra asked, puzzled.

“Your other self, my pet,” I said lightly. “That’s what she calls herself. If I get her, then you’ll be in the clear.”

“But how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even going to think about it. I must first find a hide-out for you.” Then I remembered Harriet. “I know,” I said, and leaning forward I told the driver to stop at the first public telephone.

“This do you?” he asked, cutting across the traffic and drawing up outside a drug store.

“Yeah,” I said, then to Myra, “wait here, I’ve got to ‘phone.”

I found there was only one telephone booth when I got into the drug store and some dame was using it.

I went over to the soda-jerker behind the counter. “Is that lady going to be long?” I asked.

“I’ve got a taxi outside and I’m in a hurry.”

He shook his head. “She’s about through,” he said. “Anyway, I figure it that way. She’s been in there since noon and she must have used up most of the air in that little booth by now.

I thanked him. He had a pretty good grip on his business because the woman suddenly hung up and stepped out of the booth. She nodded to the soda-jerker and went out into the Street.

“What they find to talk about,” he began, leaning on the counter, but I didn’t wait to hear any more. I shut myself in with the telephone and put a call through to the Recorder.

Harriet was tied up with Mr. Maddox, I was told.

“Well, can’t you send someone in to cut her loose?” I demanded. “This is important.”

“How important would you say?” the switchboard girl asked. She didn’t sound impressed.