is.”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, going to our staterooms and getting a good night’s sleep will not make it go away.” He faced the doorway again. “All right-into the breach!”
Max pushed the door open.
Subject was still sitting on the bed, waiting. He was a round little man with a woebegone expression. His suitcase was resting on his lap.
“I surrender,” subject said. “You’ve got me. I give up.”
“A likely story,” Max sneered. “Go on-spring the trap and let’s get it over with.”
A tear rolled down subject’s cheek. “I never should have tried it,” he wept. “I was a fool. I should have known I couldn’t get away with it.”
“Watch out for those tears,” Max warned 99 and Fang. “They may be a nerve gas.”
Subject shoved the suitcase at Max. “Take it! I never want to see it again,” he sobbed.
Max jumped back. “Ah-ah-no you don’t! That’s an old one, my friend! Your suitcase is triggered to explode when opened-right?”
“It’s just a suitcase,” subject wept.
Max smiled slyly. “If that’s true-then you open it,” he said.
“I can’t bear to look inside it any more,” subject moaned.
“Ah-hah! Caught you! Since when is it unbearable to look at something that can’t be seen?”
Subject stopped weeping and peered at Max. “Pardon?”
“The jig is up, Dr. X,” Max said. “We know what’s in that suitcase.”
“Yes, I know you know. That’s why-” He looked closer at Max. “What did you call me?”
“A-ho-here comes the trick. I suppose you’re going to deny that you are the diabolical Dr. X.”
Subject nodded. “I’m Hemingway James,” he said. “I live at 707 Spruce Street in Boston and I’m a retired banker.”
The sly smile reappeared on Max’s lips. “I see… and you’re carrying those six invisible guinea pigs to Europe to stash them away in a Swiss bank-right?”
Subject stared vacantly at Max for a second. Then he leaned his head back and screamed. “Heeeeelp!”
Max whipped out his pistol. “None of that!”
“You’re a nut!” Subject protested.
“Max… you know, maybe…” 99 began.
“99, don’t be fooled,” Max said. “I warned you that Dr. X was planning on pulling a trick.”
“Rorff!”
“Right-that’s the way to settle it,” Max said. He turned back to subject. “Open that suitcase. If there’s nothing in it, you’re as good as convicted.”
Subject suddenly hugged the suitcase to his chest. “I won’t!”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Max said smugly. “Give me that suitcase!”
“There’s nothing in here but money!” subject protested.
“Money?”
“Yes. A million dollars. I stole it from the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National Bank.”
Max peered at him dubiously. “You stole a million dollars from a bank?”
“Well, not alone,” subject admitted. “I had a friend there.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said, “but I find that hard to believe.”
“Would you believe a half-million dollars?”
“Not likely.”
“A thousand dollars?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Twelve dollars and change?”
Max suddenly reached out and snatched the suitcase from subject. “Now, we’ll get at the truth!” he gloated.
“Keep it right-side-up,” subject warned. “The thousand-dollar bills are fragile.”
Max placed the suitcase on the bed, then, dramatically, opened it. He turned slightly green.
99 peered over his shoulder. “Money!”
“A million dollars,” Max sighed. He picked up a sheaf of thousand-dollar bills. “Here’s a little sticker attached,” he said. “It says: ‘Stolen from the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National Bank’.”
“That’s cute,” 99 giggled.
Max turned to subject. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We thought you were someone else.”
“A fine time to be sorry,” subject grumbled. “Chasing a man in and out of lifeboats, interrupting his watusi, chasing him down dark corridors, trapping him in his own stateroom. An honest man isn’t safe any more.”
“My apologies,” Max said.
“Treating a man like a common criminal!”
“Really, we’re very sorry.”
“I ought to report you to the Captain. And, I would, too-except that he’d probably ask a lot of questions about that stolen million dollars.”
“I don’t think so,” Max said. “The Captain has a big heart.”
“Still, it would be a lot of bother,” subject said. “I accept your apology.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“That’s all right. Just get out of here now, will you? I want to count my money.”
“The bank’s money, you mean.”
“ My money,” subject replied. “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
Max, 99 and Fang backed toward the door. “My regards to your friend at the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National,” Max said.
“Thank you. And the same to Dr. X.”
Max closed the door. “Sweet guy,” he said.
“Maybe we should report him,” 99 mused.
“I think we’ve caused him enough trouble,” Max said. “Besides, if we did, he just might turn nasty and report us to the Captain. And you know what a kettle of fish that would be. The Captain warned us-next time, into the brig.”
They moved down the corridor. At a corner, Max nearly collided with a man carrying a suitcase.
“Sorry,” Max said.
“No, no-my fault.”
The man walked on.
“This ship is full of a bunch of sweet guys,” Max said.
“Max-that man-”
“Nice as could be,” Max said.
“But, Max-he was carrying a suitcase.”
Max stopped and looked after the man, who was ambling leisurely down the corridor.
“Yesss-he is carrying a suitcase. Do you suppose-”
“Stop him, Max!”
Max shook his head. “No, we almost got into trouble that way. This time, we’re going to use a little finesse.”
“Rorff!”
“No, it isn’t a mushroom. It means we’re going to play it cool. Instead of chasing that fellow all over the ship, we’re going to follow him, and, when the opportunity occurs, gain his confidence, then spring the trap.”
“Isn’t that dirty pool, Max?” 99 said.
“Not in the least,” Max replied. “When they do it, yes, it’s dirty pool. When we do it, it’s tactics.”
“Oh.”
“All right-after him,” Max said, leading the way. “But remember-cool!”
