and up to the third floor. There’s a Miami cop in my apartment. Figure things out for yourself. If you’d rather keep this whole thing private, just between you and me, use your head and I’ll tell him you’re a friend. We’ll get rid of the cop and talk it over after he’s gone. If you want to make it tough I’ll take you in with a gun on you and hand you over to him on two charges: Murder and attempted murder.”
Blackie turned a swollen and frightened face toward Shayne and said hoarsely, “Honest to God, I’m not hunting no trouble. I don’t know what all this stuff is about murder, but I’d rather do my talking outside bars than behind them.”
“Fair enough, but don’t forget I’ve got two guns on me. Let’s go.” He thrust the revolver inside his trousers waistband and buttoned his coat over it, then led the way around to the front entrance and they entered the lobby.
The night clerk was still on duty. He yawned and watched the two men approach with red-rimmed eyes. Shayne stopped by the desk and said, “You know my friend don’t you, Jim? He was up to see me last night when I was out.”
The clerk studied Blackie’s face intently. He said, “I don’t believe I do, Mr. Shayne. Is Miss Hamilton going to be all right?”
“I’m on my way up there now. Dr. Price thought she was okay when I left a few hours ago.”
The elevator was waiting, and when they got in, Shayne said to the operator, “Take a good look at this man. Ever see him before?”
“Listen-” Blackie began to protest, but Shayne silenced him with a look.
“I don’t know as I have or not,” the boy said reflectively. “I might could remember better, Mist’ Shayne, was you to tell me jest when I saw ’im.”
Shayne said, “We’ll skip that for the moment.” They got out of the elevator and started for his apartment.
“I’m telling you,” said Blackie doggedly, “I never been inside this building before. You can see neither one of them identified me.”
“There’s a side entrance and stairs,” Shayne said shortly. He stopped in front of his door and knocked. It was opened by a tall young man wearing the natty uniform of the Miami police force. He had his service revolver in his hand, and he peered out suspiciously until he recognized the redhead.
“It’s you, Mr. Shayne. I’m Edmund. I had orders to admit no one but you.” He stood aside and the two men entered.
Miss Naylor sat in front of the card-littered center table. She looked as prim and efficient and wide-awake as when Shayne left. She said, “The patient has been quiet all night, Mr. Shayne. I’m sure she’s going to make a splendid recovery.”
“That’s fine.” To Blackie he said, “Pull up a chair and I’ll pour some drinks. Will you have one, Edmund? Miss Naylor?”
“No thanks,” said Miss Naylor. “I’m not allowed to drink on duty.”
Blackie sat down in the middle of the couch, holding himself erect, his hands folded in his lap. Shayne went to the liquor cabinet and asked, “Cognac or whisky?”
“I really can’t take anything,” Edmund told him. “I was ordered to stay on guard here until-”
“Until I returned and took over,” said Shayne cheerfully. “You’re off duty as of this moment.” He brought out the cognac and three glasses.
“I suppose your return does relieve me, but I couldn’t take a drink this time of morning.” Edmund turned to Miss Naylor and said, “We’d better settle up our gin rummy accounts and then I’ll be getting along.”
“I’ve added it,” she told him. “Three dollars and twenty-eight cents.”
While Edmund was settling his debt, Shayne poured two drinks and handed one to Blackie, then moved across the room and sank into a chair with the bottle on the floor beside him.
“Well, I’ll be going,” the young officer said. “I hope the young lady will be all right.”
Shayne nodded. “Thanks for sticking around.” He frowned and said, “Wait a minute, Edmund. About that phone call. The one asking about the bracelet. Think you would recognize the voice if you heard it again?”
“Why-I’m not sure. Over a telephone I might. It wasn’t particularly distinctive.”
“Anything like mine?” Shayne asked. “Or more in line with Mr. Diffingham’s voice.” He nodded to Blackie.
Edmund’s smooth brow rumpled. “I don’t believe I’ve heard Mr. Diffington say anything.”
“Diffingham,” Shayne corrected. “Say something for him, Diffy,” he urged.
Blackie said gruffly, “Looks like a nice morning.”
Edmund thought for a moment, then said, “It was more like his-but not exactly. It would be easier to judge over a telephone.”
“Maybe I can arrange that for you.”
“Any time,” said Edmund. “And thanks for the game, Miss Naylor,” he added with a whimsical grin. He went out and closed the door softly.
Shayne turned to the nurse. “How soon will it be safe to waken Miss Hamilton?”
“She’s not to be wakened,” Miss Naylor said crisply. She got up and went into the bedroom, returned after half a minute and reported, “I think she’ll rouse in a couple of hours. There’s really no hurry, is there?”
“None at all,” Shayne said quickly and heartily. He yawned expansively, clutching at his sore stomach muscles. His eyes were heavy and he had difficulty keeping his gaze on his prisoner across the room.
Blackie had the advantage of him, for he had evidently slept several hours before Shayne’s foray into the garage. Shayne thrust himself erect after a time and said, “Let’s whip up a pot of coffee.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen and waited for Blackie to precede him, then followed him out and put on a dripolator of coffee. He put a frying-pan over a lighted gas jet, fried bacon, and when it was crisp took it out and poured in six eggs lightly beaten in a bowl.
A few minutes later he placed three plates of bacon, eggs, and untoasted bread on the table which Miss Naylor had cleared of playing-cards. He announced, “Breakfast is served.”
“I’m starved,” Miss Naylor declared. “Sit down and I’ll bring the coffee.”
When she brought his cup, Shayne laced it liberally with cognac. After he had eaten his breakfast leisurely, he felt wide awake. He smoked a couple of cigarettes while the nurse cleared the table, keeping a keen eye on Blackie as he did so.
Miss Naylor came in after washing the dishes and said, “I’d better take a look at our patient,” and went into the bedroom. After several minutes she returned. “She’s beginning to move restlessly. I believe she’ll be fully awake presently. It might reassure her to see you, Mr. Shayne. Would you like to come in?”
Shayne glanced curiously at Blackie’s face as he got up and went to the bedroom door. Blackie appeared to have superb self-control. Not a muscle on his stolid face betrayed anxiety.
Stopping in the doorway where he could keep an eye on his prisoner, Shayne looked at Lucy. Her features were calm and peaceful in the morning light. A curl of brown hair had detached itself and lay across her forehead.
Shayne set his teeth and felt sweat on the palms of his clenched hands as he gazed at her. It was the first time he had consciously allowed himself to consider how much her recovery meant to him. His gaunt face twitched angrily as he switched his eyes to the man whom he was practically certain was responsible for her condition. Blackie met his angry gaze with indifference.
Lucy’s brown and bandaged head moved on the pillow and her long brown lashes rolled slowly upward. She looked at Shayne and a little smile curved her lips. She said, “Hi,” and the syllable sent a rush of emotion through him.
He said, “Hi, angel. Take it easy and don’t try to move. You’ve had a pretty rough time of it.”
“It seems-like a nightmare,” she faltered. “So-hazy. I did-talk to you after it happened, didn’t I? Or did I dream that?”
“You didn’t dream it. You told us everything we needed. I’ve got a guy here I want you to meet. Feel up to it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t be frightened, now. Just tell me if you’ve ever seen him.” Shayne flipped back his coat and drew the. 45, gestured toward Blackie and said, “Come here and let the lady look at you.”
