open. There was no time for a prolonged test of that nature, for the homicide squad would be busting in any minute, maybe less than a minute, and once they arrived the right of self-determination wouldn't stand a chance.
I reached up and took the hat and coat from the rack and started for the hall door, and had taken three steps when I was halted by a loud growl from behind:
'Hey, you, where you going?'
I turned and spoke loudly but not offensively to the suspicious glare from the precinct dick, 'The management is not responsible for hats and coats, and these are mine. There'll be a lot of company coming and I'd prefer to put them in a locker.'
I moved as I spoke, and sailed on through the door. There was one chance in three that he would actually abandon Mrs Miltan and take after me, but he didn't. In the hall, I didn't even glance towards the left, where the watchdog stood at the entrance, knowing that it was out of the question to bluff a passage to freedom. Instead I turned right, and it was only five steps to a narrow door I had noticed there. I opened it and saw an uncarpeted wooden stair going down. There was a light switch just inside, but without flipping it on I shut the door behind me and it was pitch-dark, black. With my pencil flashlight for a guide, I descended to the bottom of the stair, quietly but without wasting any time. Playing the light around, I saw that I was in a large low-ceilinged room lined with shelves and with stacks of cartons and shipping cases occupying the middle floor space. I stepped around them and headed for the rear, where I could see the dim rectangles of two windows a few feet apart. I must have been a little on edge, because I stood stiff and motionless and stopped breathing when the beam of my light, directed towards the floor, showed me something sticking out from behind a pile of cartons that I wasn't expecting to see. It was the toe of a man's shoe, and it was obvious from its position and appearance that there was a foot in it and the foot's owner was standing on it. I kept the light on it, steady, and in a few seconds I breathed, moved the light upwards, and put my right hand inside my coat and out again. Then I said out loud, but not too loud:
'Don't move. I'm aiming a gun at where you are and I'm nervous. If your hands are empty stick them out beyond the edge. If they're not empty-'
A sound came from behind the cartons that was something between a moan and a squeal. I let my right hand fall and stepped forward with a grunt of disgust and put the light on him, where he was flattened against the pile of cartons.
'For the love of Mike,' I said, absolutely exasperated.
'What the hell are you scared of?'
He moaned. 'I seen him.' His eyes were still rolling. 'I tell you I done seen him.'
'So did I seen him. Look here, Arthur, I have no time to waste arguing with you about primitive superstitions. What are you going to do, stay here and moan?'
'I ain't going back up there-don't you try it-don't you touch me, I'm telling you-'
'Okay.' I laid the light on a carton, returned the pistol to my holster, and put on my coat and hat. Then I retrieved the light. 'I'm going out the back way to see that no one escapes. The best thing you can do is stay right where you are.'
'I mean don't I know it,' he groaned.
'Fine. Have you got the key for that door?'
'They's a bolt, that's all.'
'What's outside, a court with a high fence around it?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Any door in the fence?'
'No, sir.'
Overhead, namely on the floor of the office directly above, I heard the tread of dozens of heavy shoes on heavy feet. The company had come, I even thought I detected the sound of Inspector Cramer's number twelves. As I moved, I had a piece of luck; the beam of my light passed over a boy's size step-ladder standing by the shelves. I went for it, arranged for a diversion by warning Arthur to yell for help if he heard anyone else coming down, found the rear door and unbolted it, and skipped through with the step-ladder.
The court was fairly large, maybe 30 x 40, and paved with concrete, and the solid board fence was two feet over my head. There was plenty of light from the windows of the buildings. I trotted across to the rear, leaned the ladder against the fence, mounted, and looked over into the adjoining court. It was the same size as the one I was in, with a miscellaneous clutter of vague objects scattered around and one object not so vague: a bulky person dressed in white, including an apron and a chefs cap, apparently doing breathing exercises from the way he stood there and puffed. Ten feet back of him a blaze of light came from a door standing open.
I grabbed the top of the fence and pulled myself up and perched there, teetering. At the noise he looked up, startled, but before he could start screeching I demanded:
'Did you see that cat?'
'What cat?'
'My wife's cat. A yellow, long-haired fiend. It got loose and jumped out a window and climbed this fence. If you-' I lost my balance and toppled over and landed flat on the concrete on his side. As I picked myself up I cussed appropriately. 'If I find the little darling I'll strangle the damn thing. If you've been standing here you must have seen it.'
'I didn't see it.'
'You must have. Okay, then you didn't; but it came here. It must have smelled the grub in the restaurant-'
I was on my way and kept going. He started after me, but with slow acceleration, so I went through the open door unimpeded. It was a large room, full of noise, cookery smells, and activity. Without coming to a stop I inquired above the noise, 'Did a cat come in here?' They stared at me and a couple shook their heads. There was
