closer to hear him. “I'll get you if it's the last thing I do.”
“The only trouble,” I said; “is you'll never get sprung.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Now the other thing...” He reached out of the bars with his long arms, caught my coat and jerked me forward. As my face hit the bars he held the coat with his left hand, put his right arm around my neck and then grabbed a bar. He had me in kind of a vice and when he jerked back I thought my neck had broken.
“Now wise guy...” Pug snarled. The hand holding the bar kept me from pulling back. I braced with both hands, but it didn't do any good. I couldn't get far enough back to breathe. I felt a terrible pressure behind my eyeballs. I tried to shout, but I couldn't make a sound. My head was bursting. I reached out with my right hand and hit up at Pug's stomach. He couldn't move away without letting go with his right hand. I drove my fist into his groin. He groaned and let go the bar and jerked free.
I got my breath back and said: “Come on and fight, you bastard.”
Pug moved in, snarling, and hit me through the bars. I felt my teeth give and tasted salty blood. He tried to hit me again, but I caught his arm and jerked him as hard as I could against the bars. His head hit the steel with a thwack. I reached both hands through the opening in the bars and clasped them behind his neck. I pulled forward, but the bars were a little too narrow for his head to go through. I pulled, bracing hard with my feet. He tried to claw me, but I kept my legs closed. I gave a big jerk and his head came through the bars, leaving skin behind. One side of his face was a mass of blood. I let go his neck and he tried to pull back, but couldn't. His head was still too big. I stepped closer and punched his face, using both hands. It was like a work-out with a punching-bag. I beat his face to a pulp. At last he slid down on the cement, his head still sticking out the bars. Blood began to pool under one cheek.
I kicked his head a few times; but it wasn't worth while. He was out cold. I wiped the blood from my face with a handkerchief and pounded at the steel door. The turnkey opened it. Chief Piper stared at my face.
“What happened?”
“I bumped my head.”
The chief said: “I was afraid Pug might try something.” He did,” I said. “But it didn't work.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I LOOKED AT my watch by the arc light over the street-car stop. It was ten minutes past eleven. Fifty minutes and the Ceremony would start. I felt empty. I wanted a drink. I looked to see if I had the flashlight and the pistol I'd taken from the punk. Then I walked slowly down the road to the lane that led into the Vineyard, thinking about what I had to do. Heat lightning flickered in the sky.
The Princess had on black silk lounging pyjamas and Chinese red slippers. The black silk made her skin look very white.
“Hello, honey.”
I said “Hello,” and got a drink of brandy. I sat on the big divan and drank the brandy. I could feel it grab my stomach. The Princess stood looking down at me. She made me nervous.
“Have a drink, baby,” I said. “A farewell toast.”
“Did you know McGee had been killed?” she asked.
“Yeah, I read. Too bad.”
“Did you know about it this afternoon?”
“No.”
Her eyes were a glassy blue. “You didn't frame him, did you?”
“How could I do that?”
“Well, it's damn funny.” Her eyes narrowed with thinking. “Both Pug and McGee were after you, and now one's dead and the other's in jail.”
“Sure,” I said. “I fixed it. They call me Superman.”
“God damn it!” she said. “I liked McGee. He had brains.”
“Listen,” I said. “I didn't frame McGee. And if that's a lie, God strike me dead.”
I waited, but nothing happened. Her face got softer looking and she poured herself a drink. Then she came and sat by me on the divan. I could smell her.
“I guess you'll have to take his place,” she said.
“Me? You're nuts. I'm leaving tonight.”
“You were leaving, honey. But now you're business manager of the Vineyard.”
“I don't want any part of the Vineyard.”
“Don't you?” Her voice was as sweet as if she was talking to a baby. “Suppose the police heard about the robbery? And the murder? And found your fingerprints in the vault?”
“I'd be in a hell of a fix.”
“Well, nobody will tell them, honey, as long as you stick around and run things.”
“I get it.”
“I knew you would.” She stared at me, and then she unbuttoned my shirt and ran her hand over my chest. “You're not sore, are you?”
“I don't know.”
“A girl likes to have a hold over the man she loves. Can't you understand that, dear?”
