Gilbert Iles gave up. Just a way up the hill he stopped the car in front of the indicated house, opened his own door, got out, and helped his passenger to alight. She had not stopped talking once. “—and I do thank you, young man, and I wonder”—she reached into the clinking string bag—“if you’d like a glass of this jelly I was bringing my daughter? It’s Satsuma plum and her Frank, he certainly does love it, but I guess he won’t mind missing one glass. Here. You wouldn’t like to come in and see that grandson I was telling you about? Of course he’d be asleep by now, but—”
“No, thanks,” said lies politely. “But give him my love. And thanks for the jehy.”
As he drove off he muttered a full stream of what the demon had assured him could not be blasphemy, but which felt quite as satisfactory. Then back to the beginning. “One—two—three—” What would he run into this time? A detachment of marines? “Ninety-nine—one hundred.”
It was a man, alone. lies pulled the car up just ahead of him, slipped out, and stood beside the walk waiting for him, his hand sinisterly thrust into his topcoat pocket.
“Get in the car!” he snarled.
The man looked at him, then burst out guffawing. “lies, you old son of a gun! What a card! Wait’ll I tell the boys down at City Hall! What are you doing wandering around here? Who waded into your face like that? Where’s Linda? What a card! How’s about a drink? There’s a good joint near here. ‘Get in the car!’ What a card!”
“Ha ha,” said Gilbert Iles.
What was all this? Were there really guardian angels, as well as wimps and demons, and was his deliberately frustrating his every effort at a serious sin? Well, there were still three hours to go. If he pretended to drop his abductive intention— Or can you fool a guardian angel? He didn’t know.
He didn’t care much either, after the third or fourth round. The politician was right; this was a good joint. The liquor was fair and the entertainers lousy; but there was a magnificent Negro who played such boogie-woogie as lies had never heard before. Even curses and sins did not matter particularly when that boy really took it and lifted it out of this world.
In one ecstatic moment, Gilbert Iles’s eye happened to light on the clock, and ecstasy vanished. It was almost 12:30.
“Sorry,” he said hastily. “Got a date at one.”
The politician leered. “And I thought you were a good boy. How about Linda?”
“Oh, that’s all right. Linda told me to. Good-by.” And he disappeared almost as rapidly as his friend the demon was wont to.
He turned up the first side street that presented itself. He didn’t bother with the counting game this time. The minutes were short. His neck already twitched in anticipation of that garroting tail. Surely a trained lawyer’s mind could find some way of breaking that curse. The demon had said that its previous owners, the Murgatroyds, had “got rid of it.” Did that mean there was a loophole? If a Murgatroyd could find it, what was stopping an lies? And why was his mind buzzing with a half-remembered tune . . . something about the dead of the night’s high-noon?
For one hesitant instant he wavered on the verge of discovery. His alcohol-sharpened intellect seemed, for one sharp moment, to see the solution of the whole problem. Then his eyes caught sight of a figure on the sidewalk, and the solution went pop!
The routine was becoming automatic. You pull up to the curb, you fake the presence of a gun, and you snarl. “Get in the car!”
The girl drew herself up haughtily. “What do you mean, get in the car?”
“I mean get in the car. And quick!”
“Oho you do, do you? And why should I get in the car?”
“Because I said so.” His arm snaked out—he could not help comparing it to a silver-scaled tail—seized her wrist, and dragged her in. He slammed the door and without another word drove off.
He could not see the girl at all well, but she used the scent which Miss Krumpig had recently discarded.
“Where are you taking me? What are you going to do with me?”
“I’m going to abduct you.”
“I . . . I’ll scream. I warn you. I’ll scream. I’ll—” Abruptly she lowered her voice and slid over in the seat until she was touching him. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you:
He did not care for the scent, but he was forced to admit that it had a certain effectiveness. “Who said anything about hurting you?” he said gruffly. “All I’m doing is abducting you.”
On the other side of town from the beach, Gilbert Iles finally parked the car in a quiet street. The girl turned to him expectantly. The faint light of the dashboard cast heavy shadows around her face, giving it a half-seen allure that was almost beauty.
“Get out,” he said firmly.
She gasped. “Get out— Oh, I get it. This is where you live.” She got out and left the door open for him. He reached over and shut it.
“Consider yourself,” he said, “abducted.”
It was five after one as he drove away. The outraged yelp of the abandoned girl followed him. It was five after one and his neck was still whole. But he did not look forward to a lifetime career of abduction.
“Is your cold better?” Tom Andrews started to ask as his partner came into the office, but broke off and gaped at the colorful ruin of his face. “What in the name of seven devils have you been up to?”
“Just a spot of sin,” said Gilbert Iles. “And
