“Anything you want the man who’s left here to do, Lieutenant?”
“Not unless a dark-haired youngster comes back, which he won’t. But if he should, just have him kept for me, please, on ice.”
Down on the street, Lieutenant Valcour jumped in beside the driver of the department car and said, “Step on it, Clancy. It’s only eleven blocks up and three west.”
The car shot forward, swept to the right at the corner, and lunged up Lexington Avenue. There was little traffic, and what little there was was so scattered that nothing impeded its way.
“Something going to break on that Endicott business, Lieutenant?”
“Either going to, or has.”
“A homicide, ain’t it?”
“Possibly—by now.”
Nurse Murrow smoothed the last wrinkles from her uniform while waiting for Dr. Worth to open the door. It paid to look one’s best. Always, at any time at all. One never could tell.
“Oh, Doctor. I’m sorry to get you up again so soon, but Mr. Endicott shows symptoms of coming to.”
Dr. Worth, who was no longer the eager-eyed practitioner he once had been, did his best to shake off the puffy chains of sleep.
“I’ll come right down, Miss Murrow.”
“I’ll wait, Doctor.”
“Just want to dash some cold water on my face.”
“No hurry, Doctor.”
He vanished into the room again. Ah, dreamed Miss Murrow, what a man! And he’d never been snappy with her, either. So many were snappy. Someone was coming up the stairs—quickly—two at a time—a policeman—
“Where’s the doctor, miss?” said O’Brian, a little winded.
“He’s coming right out, Officer.”
“I gotta see him at once.”
O’Brian brushed her aside and opened the door. Dr. Worth met him, astonished and glistening, on the threshold.
“Say, lissen, Doctor, the lieutenant just called up, and he said …”
O’Brian thereupon repeated all that the lieutenant had said.
“But, my dear man, this is the most extraordinary thing I have ever heard in my life!” Dr. Worth’s slightly damp eyebrows indulged in a series of gyrations.
“Sure there ain’t no time for astonishments, Doctor,” said O’Brian. “Let’s go—easy and quietlike, now. We’re not to put this bird wise. …”
With O’Brian leading, they started down the stairs.
“Hello, Herb,” Hollander said softly.
Endicott’s voice was so weak that it scarcely carried to Hollander’s ears. “Who is it?” he said. “What …” the voice dribbled off.
“It’s your friend, Herb.”
Sullen, petulant lines clung suddenly to Endicott’s mouth, making the thickish lips look almost viciously weak. He made a curious noise that might have been intended for a laugh.
“Have no friend.” The voice was the ghost of dead whispers.
“What happened to you, Herb?”
“Happened?” Endicott’s eyes made a strong effort to get through the fogs shrouding them. “Something did happen—I want the police—I’ll teach that rotten—that—”
There wasn’t any sound for a while.
“You’ll teach whom, Herb?”
Endicott was staring very fixedly up at Hollander now. And Hollander’s right hand, the fingers of which were unnaturally rigid, was gently moving to that spot on the spread which would lie above Endicott’s heart.
“Who is it you’re going to teach, Herb?” Hollander said again.
The mists were clearing, and Endicott could see things almost plainly. He fixed Hollander’s face into definite focus. “God damn you,” he said, “for a—”
“Now, now, Herb, that isn’t nice, and you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Hollander’s right hand had found the spot. It hung above it, motionless, very rigid, and the fingers very stiff.
“I’m going to call a policeman and—”
Endicott’s voice was so weak as to be almost inaudible. His lips seemed as motionless as the rest of his body, which was completely inert.
“No, you’re not, Herb,” whispered Hollander. “And you’re not going to tell, either.”
Endicott got tired of looking up at Hollander. His eyes travelled fretfully along Hollander’s right arm.
“Neither you nor all the devils in hell,” he whispered faintly, “can stop me from telling.”
And then he saw the knife.
“Can’t I, Herb?”
It was the slenderest knife Endicott had ever seen. He wondered where on earth Hollander had got it. No hilt—or perhaps the hilt was cupped in Hollander’s hand. A stiletto, that’s what it was, and its point was pressing through the white spread at a point that lay just above his heart. Why, if the pressure kept on, it would go right into his heart. …
Crack …
Crack … crack crack … crack … crack …
A bullet from Cassidy’s gun shattered Hollander’s right wrist. Hansen’s shot caught him in the right shoulder. Two bullets out of the fusillade that followed lodged, one in his right hip, and the other one farther down in the leg. Both officers, in spite of Nurse Murrow’s orders, had moved into the room and were crouched on the floor where they would still be concealed from Endicott’s line of vision, but where they could better and more closely observe what had been the faintly suspicious movements on the part of Hollander.
They were within four or five feet of him and still crouched below him as blood stained the white spread in a sickish smear when Hollander dragged his mangled wrist across it to the floor.
XVII
2:40 a.m.—The Angle of Death’s Path
The pounding on the door became hysterical, and Cassidy, who for two cents would have become hysterical himself, went over and unlocked it. He found Dr. Worth, backed by scandalously excited servants and flanked by Nurse Murrow and O’Brian, pressing across the sill.
“Is it Endicott?” Dr. Worth demanded breathlessly.
“No, sir—it’s Hollander. We shot the knife from his hand before he could stick it into Endicott, and then we shot him down.”
“Close this door, Officer, and keep these people out. Come in with me, Miss Murrow.”
Dr. Worth came into the room with Nurse Murrow. Cassidy closed the door, and the shrill clatter of excited whisperings ebbed like a tide.
“Thank God, Officer, you saved Endicott. What a mess.” Dr. Worth glanced critically at Hollander, huddled on the floor by the bed in a blood-soaked heap. “You two men help Nurse Murrow. Stretch him out on that chest over there by the window. Do what you can for him, Miss Murrow, until I’ve taken care of Endicott.”
Cassidy and Hansen lifted Hollander and carried him to the improvised cot Miss Murrow arranged
