There was nothing surprising about his unquestioning acceptance of my word. He couldn’t afford to doubt that I’d play fair with him. And, also, all successful bunko men come in time to believe that the world—except for themselves—is populated by a race of human sheep who may be trusted to conduct themselves with true sheep-like docility.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. We answered it together, and Ledwich took a large envelope from a messenger boy, while I memorized the number on the boy’s cap. Then we went back to the front room.
Ledwich slit the envelope and passed its contents to me: a piece of rough-torn newspaper. Across the face of the fake article he had told me about was written a message in a jerky hand.
I wouldn’t have suspected you, Ledwich, of such profound stupidity. My last thought will be—this bullet that ends my life also ends your years of leisure. You’ll have to go to work now.
The doctor had died game!
I took the envelope from the big man, put the death note in it, and put them in my pocket. Then I went to a front window, flattening a cheek against the glass until I could see O’Gar, dimly outlined in the night, patiently standing where I had left him hours before.
“The city dick is still on the corner,” I told Ledwich. “Here’s your gat”—holding out the gun I had shot from his fingers a little while back—“take it, and blow through the back door. Remember, that’s all I’m offering you—the gun and a fair start. If you play square with me, I’ll not do anything to help find you—unless I have to keep myself in the clear.”
“Fair enough!”
He grabbed the gun, broke it to see that it was still loaded, and wheeled toward the rear of the flat. At the door he pulled up, hesitated, and faced