corporations in Izzard that are nothing but addresses on letterheads – but stock certificates and bonds have been sold in them from one end of these United States to the other. And they have brought goods, paid for them, shipped them out to be got rid of – maybe at a loss – and put in larger and larger orders until they’ve built up a credit with the manufacturers that would make you dizzy to total. Easy! Wasn’t Brackett’s bank here to give them all the financial references they needed? There was nothing to it; a careful building-up of credit until they reached the highest possible point. Then, the goods shipped out to be sold through fences, and – bingo! The town is wiped out by fire. The stocks of goods are presumably burned; the expensive buildings that the out-of-town investors were told about are presumably destroyed; the books and records are burned.
“What a killing! I’ve had a hell of a time stalling off the syndicate, trying to keep them in the dark about the surprise we’re going to give them. They’re too suspicious as it is for us to linger much longer. But things are about ripe for the blow-off – the fire that’s to start in the factory and wipe out the whole dirty town – and next Saturday was the day we picked. That’s the day when Izzard becomes nothing but a pile of ashes – and a pile of collectable insurance policies.
“The rank and file in town won’t know anything about the finer points of the game. Those that suspect anything take their money and keep quiet. When the town goes up in smoke there will be hundreds of bodies found in the ruins – all insured – and there will be proof of the death of hundreds of others – likewise insured – whose bodies can’t be found.
“There never was a bigger game! But it was too big for us! My fault- some of it – but it would have burst anyway. We always weeded out those who came to town looking too honest or too wise, and we made doubly sure that nobody who was doubtful got into the post office, railroad depot, telegraph office, or telephone exchange. If the railroad company or the telegraph or telephone company sent somebody here to work, and we couldn’t make them see things the way we wanted them seen, we managed to make the place disagreeable for them – and they usually flitted elsewhere in a hurry.
“Then the telegraph company sent Nova here and I flopped for her. At first it was just that I liked her looks. We had all sorts of women here – but they were mostly all sorts – and Nova was something different. I’ve done my share of dirtiness in this world, but I’ve never been able to get rid of a certain fastidiousness in my taste for women. I – well, the rest of them – Brackett, Ormsby, Elder, and the lot – were all for giving Nova the works. But I talked them out of it. I told them to let her alone and I’d have her on the inside in no time. I really thought I could do it. She liked me, or seemed to, but I couldn’t get any further than that. I didn’t make any headway. The others got impatient, but I kept putting them off, telling them that everything would be fine, that if necessary I’d marry her, and shut her up that way. They didn’t like it. It wasn’t easy to keep her from learning what was going on – working in the telegraph office – but we managed it somehow.
“Next Saturday was the day we’d picked for the big fireworks. Ormsby gave me the call yesterday – told me flatly that if I didn’t sew Nova up at once they were going to pop her. They didn’t know how much she had found out, and they were taking no chances. I told him I’d kill him if he touched her, but I knew I couldn’t talk them out of it. Today the break came. I heard he had given the word that she was to be put out of the way tonight. I went to his office for a showdown. Brackett was there. Ormsby salved me along, denied he had given any order affecting the girl, and poured out drinks for the three of us. The drink looked wrong. I waited to see what was going to happen next. Brackett gulped his down. It was poisoned. He went outside to die, and I nailed Ormsby.
“The game has blown up! It was too rich for us. Everybody is trying to slit everybody else’s throat. I couldn’t find Elder – but Fernie tried to pot me from a window; and he’s Elder’s right-hand man. Or he was – he’s a stiff now. I think this thing in my chest is the big one – I’m about – but you can get the girl out. You’ve got to! Elder will go through with the play – try to make the killing for himself. He’ll have the town touched off to-night. It’s now or never with him. He’ll try to -“
A shriek cut through the darkness.
“Steve! Steve!
Steve whirled away from the gate, leaped through flowerbeds, crossed the porch in a bound, and was in the house. Behind him Larry Ormsby’s feet clattered. An empty hallway, an empty room, another. Nobody was in sight on the ground floor. Steve went up the stairs. A strip of golden light lay under a door. He went through the door, not knowing or caring whether it was locked or not. He simply hurled himself shoulder-first at it, and was in the room. Leaning back against a table in the centre of the room, Dr. MacPhail was struggling with the girl. He was behind her, his arms around her, trying to hold her head still. The girl twisted and squirmed like a cat gone mad. In front of her Mrs. MacPhail poised an uplifted blackjack.
Steve flung his stick at the woman’s white arm, flung it instinctively, without skill or aim. The heavy ebony struck arm and shoulder, and she staggered back. Dr. MacPhail, releasing the girl, dived at Steve’s legs, got them, and carried him to the floor. Steve’s fumbling fingers slid off the doctor’s bald head, could get no grip on the back of his thick neck, found an ear, and gouged into the flesh under it.
The doctor grunted and twisted away from the digging fingers. Steve got a knee free – drove it at the doctor’s face. Mrs. MacPhail bent over his head, raising the black leather billy she still held. He dashed an arm at her ankles, missed – but the down-crashing blackjack fell obliquely on his shoulder. He twisted away, scrambled to his knees and hands – and sprawled headlong under the impact of the doctor’s weight on his back.
He rolled over, got the doctor under him, felt his hot breath on his neck. Sieve raised his head and snapped it back – hard. Raised it again, and snapped it down, hammering MacPhail’s face with the back of his skull. The doctor’s arms fell away and Steve lurched upright to find the fight over.
Larry Ormsby stood in the doorway grinning evilly over his pistol at Mrs. MacPhail, who stood sullenly by the table. The blackjack was on the floor at Larry’s feet.
Against the other side of the table the girl leaned weakly, one hand on her bruised throat, her eyes dazed and blank with fear. Steve went around to her.
“Get going, Steve! There’s no time for playing. You got a car?” Larry Ormsby’s voice was rasping.
“No,” Steve said.
Larry cursed bitterly – an explosion of foul blasphemies. Then:
“We’ll go in mine – it can outrun anything in the state. But you can’t wait here for me to get it. Take Nova over to blind Rymer’s shack. I’ll pick you up there. He’s the only one in town you can trust. Go ahead, damn you!” he yelled.
Steve glanced at the sullen MacPhail woman, and at her husband, now getting up slowly from the floor, his face blood-smeared and battered.
“How about them?”
“Don’t worry about them,” Larry said. “Take the girl and make Rymer’s place. I’ll take care of this pair and be over there with the car in fifteen minutes. Get going!”
Steve’s eyes narrowed and he studied the man in the doorway. He didn’t trust him, but since all Izzard seemed equally dangerous, one place would be as safe as another – and Larry Ormsby might be honest this time.
“All right,” he said, and turned to the girl. “Get a heavy coat.”
Five minutes later they were hurrying through the same dark streets they had gone through on the previous night. Less than a block from the house, a muffled shot came to their ears, and then another. The girl glanced quickly at Steve but did not speak. He hoped she had not understood what the two shots meant.
They met nobody. Rymer had heard and recognised the girl’s footsteps on the sidewalk, and he opened the door before they could knock.
“Come in, Nova,” he welcomed her heartily, and then fumbled for Steve’s hand. “This is Mr. Threefall, isn’t it?”
He led them into the dark cabin, and then lighted the oil lamp on the table. Steve launched at once into a hurried summarising of what Larry Ormsby had told him. The girl listened with wide eyes and wan face; the blind man’s face lost its serenity, and he seemed to grow older and tired as he listened.
“Ormsby said he would come after us with his car,” Steve wound up. “If he does, you will go with us, of course, Mr. Rymer. If you’ll tell us what you want to take with you we’ll get it ready; so that there will be no delay when he comes – if he comes.” He turned to the girl. “What do you think, Nova? Will he come? And can we trust him if he does?”
“I – I hope so -he’s not all bad, I think.”
The blind man went to a wardrobe in the room’s other end.
