Roxy said at last, “It's down on the left. I'll drive past it.”
They went slower. Dillon kept well back in the darkness of the car.
“See? By that light. That's the joint.”
As the car went past, Dillon looked the house over. Bright lights gleamed in most of the windows. It was big.
Dillon said, “Seems like there's goin' to be plenty of company.”
Roxy didn't say anything. He was scared.
“Okay Stop her over the way. We'll go an' look at the place.”
Roxy ran the car into the shadows and turned off the engine. Dillon opened the door and got on to the street, looking cautiously up and down. The street was empty. Roxy came and stood at his elbow.
“You stay here,” Dillon said to Myra. “Get in the drivin'-seat an' wait till we come. You gotta be ready to get goin' quick.”
Myra got out of the car and climbed into the driving-seat. She sat there, hunched up over the wheel, silent.
Dillon leant into the car, his face quite close to hers. “Watch yourself, sister,” he said softly. “You try to pull a quick one on me an' you're goin' to have a bad time... get it?”
“It'll be all right,” she said.
“Sure it'll be all right,” Dillon said, and he jerked his head to Roxy. They walked slowly down the street, keeping on the opposite side of Ernie's place.
“We'll go round the back,” Dillon said, “Maybe he's got a fire-escape or somethin'.”
Roxy nodded. He was feeling bad.
At the end of the street they crossed over and cut down an alley. They came down along the back of the buildings. Dillon counted each building carefully, then he stopped. “This is it,” he said.
They stood in the darkness and stared up Dimly they could see a fire-escape straggling up into the darkness.
Dillon moved forward cautiously. He could see the swing-up several feet above his head.
“If I give you a back, you can reach it,” he said to Roxy.
Roxy came forward reluctantly. “You're goin' to start somethin' in this joint,” he said uneasily.
“Yeah!” Dillon leant against the wall. “You're goddam right. I am.”
Roxy put his small shoe in Dillon's hands and Dillon hoisted him up. The swing-up came within reach of Roxy's fingers. He pulled gently, bringing the escape down slowly. It made no noise.
Dillon began to walk up the escape quietly. Roxy followed him, Dillon peered into each window as he passed. Three rooms were in darkness, but on the fourth landing of the escape there was a blaze of light. Dillon shifted his gun from its holster and moved forward more slowly. Roxy stayed between the landings, waiting.
Dillon edged his way closer to the window and glanced in. There were a number of people in the room. Dillon's eyes fixed on a small apeish-looking man who was sitting in a big overstuffed chair in the centre of the room. He guessed that must be Ernie. He raised his hand and beckoned to Roxy.
Although the evening was close, the window was shut. Dillon could hear the buzz of talking faintly through the glass, and now and then the shrill high-pitched laugh of one of the women came to him with startling clearness.
Roxy crawled up on hands and knees. Dillon said, keeping his head close to Roxy's, “That Ernie, the little mug sitting there?”
Roxy took a quick look into the room and nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “that's him.”
Dillon watched the scene in the room thoughtfully. He fingered his gun, but he knew it would get him nowhere if he did start shooting. He had got to go down four flights of escape and by that time he'd be as dead as a pork chop.
One of the women, a tall, brittle blonde, was making a big play at Ernie. She was holding a long glass full of Scotch, and by the way she giggled and swayed, Dillon guessed she was getting plastered fast.
Ernie was watching her under his hooded eyes. His face was expressionless, but his little black eyes never left her.
Dillon thought, in a moment or so something would blow up there.
Someone put on a gramophone and faintly Dillon could hear the rhythmic pulse of the music. The blonde began to swing it. She stood in the middle of the room swaying her hips at Ernie. The others grouped round the walls, clapping their hands and shouting to her. She stamped round the room, contorting her body and snapping her fingers in time with the rhythm.
Ernie sat like a stuffed monkey, his eyes gleaming a little brighter. She lifted her long skirts to her knees and pulled off a pretty fair high kick. Ernie took his hand out of his lap and scratched the side of his face. He got out of the chair and she swayed over to him, wrapping her long arms round his neck.
Dillon thought they looked bad. She was a head taller than Ernie, and with her back turned to the window, Ernie disappeared from sight.
The others in the room watched with interest. One or two of the other women giggled, but they didn't get smart. Dillon reckoned that Ernie wouldn't stand for much, and he was right.
Maybe Ernie was a little guy, but he was right in the right places. He took the blonde by the arm and shoved her out of the room. The door closed behind them.
Dillon cursed softly. He turned his head and looked at Roxy. “Now what?” he said through his teeth. “Where the hell's that guy gone to?”
Roxy shrugged. He felt relieved. “I guess he's goin' to lay that dame,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we'd better take it on the lam.”
“I'm goin' to get that guy, if I have to stay here all night,” Dillon returned. “Shut up, an' let me do the talkin'.”
Roxy relapsed into gloomy silence. He glanced down into the dark street, but he couldn't see anything. Dillon suddenly clutched his arm. Roxy turned his head quickly. A light had sprung up on the next landing.
“They've gone up there,” Dillon said. “Ain't that a break?”
Without waiting for Roxy to say anything, he climbed up on to the next landing.
The blonde was sitting on the bed trying to take off her dress. She was so drunk that she couldn't quite make it. She sat there struggling and giggling. Little Ernie was not in the room Dillon could see a light coming from a half-open door leading off the room, and he guessed he was in there.
The blonde got to her feet and lurched through the door, leaving the room empty. Dillon put his fingers under the window frame and quietly lifted the window. He had a little struggle, but he managed it. The window slid back without any noise.
Roxy came up, a gun in his hand. His eyes were popping out of his head.
Dillon said quietly, “Stay here. If there's any trouble, shoot.”
He put a leg over the window-sill and slid into the room. He stood listening in the middle of the room, his gun held by his side. Faintly, he could hear the two in the other room. They were not talking, but he could hear the blonde giggle and Ernie's grunts. He stepped quietly to the door and looked in.
Little Ernie was dressed in a salmon-pink dressing-gown. He was standing with his back to the door. The blonde had got rid of her dress and she was facing Dillon. She was wearing a cloudy piece of chiffon that didn't cover her much. She saw Dillon standing in the doorway and she stiffened. The liquor died on her, leaving her sober and terrified.
Dillon said, “Don't move, you two. I'm itching to blast you.”
Little Ernie didn't bat an eyelid Dillon had to hand it to him. He just stood looking inquiringly at the blonde. She folded her hands across her breasts and moaned softly.
Dillon moved into the room, stiff-legged, like a cat about to fight. He circled slowly round until he was behind the blonde, facing Ernie.
