The Paw in the Bottle

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Mrs. French asked sharply. ‘Getting cold feet or something?’

‘Shouldn’t be surprised,’ Harry said frankly. ‘I’ve had a good run. I’ve got a bit salted away and this job isn’t going to be for peanuts. Might as well enjoy myself while I can.’

‘You haven’t done the job yet,’ Mrs. French reminded him. The office door pushed open and Dana came in.

‘Hasn’t she come?’ she asked, running her slim fingers through Harry’s hair. ‘Hello, Harry, remember me?’

He jerked his head away irritably.

‘Cut it out,’ he said, took out a comb and tidied his hair.

She looked at him, glanced over at her mother who pursed her lips.

‘Harry’s quitting after this job,’ Mrs. French said. ‘Wants to go to America.’

‘So do I,’ Dana said. ‘We’ll go together, won’t we Harry?’

He gave her a shifty look, smiled.

‘It might be an idea,’ he said, without conviction. ‘But I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

A timid tap sounded on the outer door.

‘That’s her,’ Dana said, her lips tightening. ‘I’ll go.’

She found Julie waiting in the dark passage.

‘Come in,’ Dana said. ‘You’re late, aren’t you?’

‘Am I?’ Julie said curtly, ‘I don’t know.’ Her heart was hammering and her throat was dry, but she had control of herself and apart from a steadily beating vein in her temple she looked calm and at ease.

‘Hello, Jane,’ said a sneering voice behind her, and she flinched, looked quickly over her shoulder.

Theo materialized out of the darkness.

‘Been trailing you all the evening, just in case you changed your mind,’ he said. His bad, stale breath fanned her face, and she shuddered.

‘Come in,’ Dana said sharply. She disliked Theo, and wished her mother didn’t employ him.

She led the way into the inner office. Theo trod on Julie’s heels as he followed her.

‘I bet you’ve been dreaming of me, Jane,’ he said, grinning. ‘Nice little nightmares that made you sweat.’

Harry kicked back his chair and stood up.

‘Shut your trap, you half-grown monkey,’ he said. ‘Who told you to talk?’

Theo eyed him evilly, slouched to a chair and sat down.

‘You’d better tell this bloke to lay off me,’ he said to Mrs. French. ‘I’m getting tired of him.’

‘Hello, Julie,’ Harry said with a nervous smile. ‘Come and sit down near me.’

Julie gave him a look of contempt and turned her back on him.

Theo sniggered.

‘That’s pretty good. Give her a kick in the tail,’ he said.

‘Shut up, both of you,’ Mrs. French snapped. ‘Here, you,’ this to Julie. ‘Sit down. Have you found out how the safe opens?’

Julie faced her.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Pity,’ Theo said. ‘I was looking forward to do you, Jane.’

Harry made a move to get up again, but Mrs. French waved impatiently at him.

‘All right, sit down and tell us,’ Mrs. French said.

Julie pulled up a chair away from Harry and sat down.

‘I took notes. You’d better read them,’ she said.

Theo leaned forward.

‘They’d better be all right,’ he said. ‘You try any tricks, Jane, and you’ll be sorry.’

Julie recoiled before his vicious scowl.

Harry hit Theo across his mouth with the back of his hand. Theo and his chair went over backwards. For a second or so he lay sprawled on the floor, stunned. Then he began to swear, his face vicious with rage. His hand went to his hip pocket and he dragged out a small automatic pistol. But Harry was ready for that. He kicked the gun out of Theo’s hand, picked it up and put it on the table.

‘I warned you,’ he said, glaring down at Theo. ‘When I say shut up, I mean shut up. And don’t try to pull a gun on me again, you cheap little gangster.’

Theo got slowly to his feet. There was a look in his eyes that frightened Julie. He touched his nose and mouth with the back of his hand, then slouched over to the settee under the window and stretched out on it. His silence was more chilling than a display of temper.

Mrs. French glanced at him, picked up the gun and put it in her bag.

‘How many times have I to tell you not to carry guns?’ she demanded. Her bright eyes revealed her rage. ‘Are you carrying a gun, Harry?’

‘Not likely,’ Harry said, still glaring at Theo. ‘I’m not a kid like wet-ears over there. I’ve never carried a gun and I never will. I’m not soft in the head.’

Mrs. French grunted.

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ she said to Theo.

Theo pursed his lips but said nothing. He stared up at the ceiling, hate in his eyes.

Julie watched all this with fascinated horror. The sight of the gun had turned her cold.

‘All right,’ Mrs. French said. ‘Let’s get down to business. Where’s this paper of yours?’

Julie produced a sheet of paper covered with her neat writing and put it on the desk.

Mrs. French read it through and Harry stood behind her, reading over her shoulder.

‘Two alarms,’ Harry said, and whistled. ‘They’re not taking any chances. I said I thought it was a photo-electric cell. This is fine; just what we want.’