Joe’s face brightened. “I could get you somethin’ if you’ve the dough.”
“The right stuff. I don’t want any gut-rot. I want the right stuff.”
“Sure, the liquor’s the McCoy. The guy distils it himself right here. It’ll cost you a couple of bucks, but it’s panther’s spit all right.”
Hienie dug into his trouser pocket and found two dollars. “Get it,” he said briefly.
Joe climbed out of the cab and walked stiffly into the office. He came out after a few minutes, carrying a gallon-size earthenware jar. Hienie reached forward and took it from him.
Joe stood watching. Hienie drew the cork with his teeth and carefully raised the jar to his mouth. He took a long pull and blinked. He coughed, and began to rub his coat front with the palm of his hand. “Yeah,” he said, when he could get his breath, “it’s the McCoy all right.”
Joe shifted about, anxiously eyeing the bottle, but Hienie paid no attention. He took another long pull from the jar, then hurriedly handed it to Joe. “My Gawd,” he gasped, “it went down as far as my boots that time.”
Joe wrapped himself round the jar lovingly and kept it glued to his mouth.
After almost a minute, Hienie leant forward. “Hey!” he shouted sharply. “Take it easy. Hey! Lay off, will you?”
Joe removed himself from the jar with a little shudder. His eyes swam mistily as he handed it back. “Pretty nice,” he said; “that’s swell poison.”
Hienie looked at him admiringly. “You certainly can take it,” he said.
Joe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I can take it all right, but it sortta sneaks up on me and bonk—I’m out.”
Hienie wasn’t listening, he was busy with the jar again.
Joe said, when he was through: “I’m just goin’ to look at my patient, and then we’ll dust.”
“Sure, give her a drink—it’s tough bein’ a nut.”
Joe shook his head. “She ain’t to have any liquor. That’s her trouble—too much liquor,” he said, going round to the back of the ambulance. When he had paid for the gasoline he climbed into the cab.
Hienie said, “She O.K.?”
“Yeah, she’s asleep,” Joe returned, starting the engine.
Hienie offered him the jar. “Just one for the road,” he said.
Joe grabbed the jar and took a long pull. He handed it back with a deep sigh. “Pal,” he said, blowing out his leathery cheeks, “this is certainly a great little evenin’.”
After a couple more drinks, Hienie felt so merry he began to sing at the top of his voice.
Joe said hastily, “You can’t do that on this wagon.”
Hienie continued to bellow, counting his time by waving the jar to and fro.
Joe got scared and brought the ambulance to a standstill. “For Pete’s sake,” he said urgently, “pipe down. You’ll wake my patient up and maybe get the cops lookin’ us over.”
Hienie roared with laughter. “Forget it, Joe,” he said, taking another pull from the jar. “Don’t be a crab. I bet that nutty dame just loves my voice. Come on, you sing too.”
Joe said angrily: “Cut it out. No girl’s goin’ to like the row you’re makin’—not even a crazy one.”
Hienie stiffened. His smile slipped into a heavy scowl. “Yeah? Is that so? O.K., you soft-bellied little runt, we’ll ask her and see.”
Joe shook his head. “Like hell we will,” he said firmly. “You pipe down, or I’ll get tough.”
Hienie reached out and slid back the small panel that divided the ambulance from the cab. He put his head through the foot-square aperture and blinked into the faintly lit ambulance. He touched an electric switch by his hand, and a brilliant light went on.
Joe said furiously: “Lay off. You can’t do this.”
Hienie ignored him. He looked curiously at the bunk that ran the length of the ambulance. Someone was lying there covered by a rug.
He leant further forward. “Hey!” he called. “Let’s have a look at you.”
The figure stirred and then slowly sat up. Although the applejack had given him plenty of courage, he felt a little chill run through him as the woman moved. He had always had a fear of things he couldn’t understand. Madness scared him more than most things. He got a hell of a shock when she sat up. He had vaguely pictured her to be old and horrible to look at, only because he had associated madness with decay.
This dame was something to look at. She was not only a beauty, but she had everything. Her colouring, the sleepy passion in her eyes, the small, full, heavily rouged lips and the soft, golden lustre of her hair. Her beauty hit Hienie like a physical blow. He peered at her, his jaw a little slack and his bloodshot eyes glassy. “For God’s sake!” he said in a low tone.
She looked at him, a puzzled interested expression on her face. “Who are you?” she asked, then, hurriedly: “Please get me out of here.”
Hienie was so confused that he jerked back and slammed the panel shut. Feebly, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his damp hands.
Joe said angrily: “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
Hienie looked at him. “Wait a moment. That dame’s no more crazy than I am. What’s the game?”
Joe began to stutter. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I tell you she’s not only nutty but she’s goddam dangerous. You can’t go by how a dame looks. It ain’t her looks that’re wrong, it’s her mind—get it?”
Hienie nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, sliding his hand behind him and pulling his gun. “Listen, pal, how come you’re travellin’ alone with this dame?”
Joe hastily shifted his eyes., “I’m givin’ you a lift. That’s all that’ll interest you.” He reached forward to start the engine, but Hienie rammed his gun into his ribs.
“Hold it, lug,” he said viciously. “Spill it, or I’ll start somethin’.”
Joe shifted uneasily. “The nurse oughtta’ve come along, but she wanted to make the journey on the train with her boy friend. So I fixed it for them. It’s against regulations, but they knew the girl was safe with me.”
Hienie sneered. “What a yarn! Say, I could have cooked up a better tale in half the time. I’m on to you, hophead. This ain’t no nut wagon. You ain’t no nut hand—this is a snatch, ain’t that right?”
Joe’s eyes bulged. “You’re crazy.”
“That’s what you think. I’m goin’ to see what cherry-pie’s got to say.” He slid back the panel.
The girl still sat on the bunk. She was looking scared now. As soon as she saw him she said frantically: “Let me out! Please! I’m not mad! He keeps saying I am, but I’m not. Don’t you believe me—do I look mad?”
Hienie shook his head. “Keep your pants on, sister,” he said soothingly. “I just want a little talk with this guy here, an’ then you’ll be O.K. Take it easy. It ain’t goin’ to be long.” He slid back the panel and looked at Joe. “So what?” he said.
Joe flapped his hands. “Don’t listen to her,” he said feverishly. “Don’t I keep tellin’ you she’s nuts?”
Hienie sneered. “A dish as hot as that ain’t bugs,” he said. “Come on, lug, spill it. This dame ain’t crazy. Who is she? Who’re you workin’ for?”
Joe clutched his head. Sweat ran down his face, and his eyes rolled feverishly. “For Gawd’s sake don’t do anythin’,” he gasped. “I tell you she’s pullin’ a fast one. Don’t let her get away. I’ll lose my job.”
“Who is she?”
“Marie van Drutten. The banker’s daughter.”
“Listen, I’ve heard of that guy. He never had a nutty daughter, but he’s got a load of dough. What’s the ransom, buddy?”
“There ain’t any ransom,” Joe said earnestly. “Van Drutten’s hushing this up. He don’t want anyone to know she’s gone nuts. He’s given out she’s in Europe or some place. Now do you get it?”
Hienie half believed him. His mind began to work from another angle. “A mighty slick yarn. Listen, Joe, people don’t just go crazy. What’s it all about?”
Joe shook his head. “Gee! I can’t tell you that. It’d cost me my job.”
Hienie put some more weight on his gun arm. “You can either spill it or get out an’ walk. Suit yourself. If it sounds reasonable I’ll take off the heat and you can forget about this; but if you ain’t comin’ clean, I’ll take a chance an’ let the dame go—suit yourself.”
Joe groaned. “Don’t do that, I tell you she’s dangerous!”
“So is Sally Rand, so is Mae West, so what?” Hienie snarled. “Suit yourself, but you’re goin’ to walk if you
