Black Mask (Vol. 21, No. 8 — November, 1938)

The guard swore and pushed the table away. As he got up slowly, his chalk-like eyes were pools of light blue flame, his face was a white mask. “I’ll kill you, punk.”

Lennox told him, “You’re not killing anybody at the moment. Turn around and go on up to the bathroom.” He followed the man up the stairs. A white-coated Filipino boy was putting linen into a closet. He turned to look them over with wide, marble-like eyes.

Lennox motioned to him with the gun. “Over there.” He shut the boy in the linen closet, turned the latch. Then he took the guard into the bathroom, made the man find a roll of tape. With the tape, he fastened the man’s wrists and ankles securely, leaving his prisoner sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the shower stall. Then he went into the hall and bound the Filipino. That done he left the house.

There was a Ford V-8 coupé in the garage, the keys in the lock. He started the motor, went sliding down the steep, winding road. His toe kicked the accelerator almost to the floor as he twisted the coupé through traffic.

His face was a tight mask. He was going to see Frank Hobbs and make the flyer talk. If Morgan had Nancy the time for all stalling was past and he was through stalling. He wheeled the car down the hill, jammed the brakes to stop at a signal. Then he became a witness to a jail break.

He saw Frank Hobbs come out of the building between two guards; saw a black car swing to the curb; saw two men step forward and jab guns into the guards’ backs. Instinctively he shouted a warning, knowing, even as the sound issued from his lips, that the words would be lost in the noise of the afternoon traffic.

Then someone lifted Hobbs and almost pitched him into the black car. He saw the machine swerve away from the curb just as the signal changed. A brief glimpse of the driver told him it was the man who had driven him to the hilltop house.

Everything in the street was confusion; a taxi had pulled directly in front of the police car, blocking its path. The driver slid from under the cab wheel, jumped to the sidewalk and a moment later was lost in the crowd. The men who had held the guards motionless seemed to have melted into the throng. A moment later everything was as serene as if the snatch had not occurred. Sound of motor horns behind him made Lennox conscious of his surroundings.

He tooled the car forward, pulled into the curb, back of the cab, parked the wrong way, and climbed out onto the sidewalk.

Spellman dashed out of the door turned as he saw Lennox. “So, it was you!” He was sputtering, hardly able to utter coherent sound. “So, you did it! I’ll break you, Bill, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Lennox jerked free from Spellman’s grasp. “Don’t be a damned fool, Floyd. I wouldn’t pull a stunt like that, and you know it.”

Spellman said, “The hell you wouldn’t! You’d do anything to shoot that picture. Well, you’re not going to shoot it. I’ll throw the whole force onto the General lot. I’ll see that a camera doesn’t turn until we get Hobbs back into the can.”

Lennox said, “Shut up a minute. You don’t really think I’m a damned enough fool to get Hobbs out that way, do you?”

Spellman stared at him. The Detective Captain’s eyes were small, very dark with rage. He controlled himself with a visible effort. “Then, how do you know so much about it?”

Lennox said, “I saw the whole thing. I was at the corner when it happened. But I didn’t pull it.”

Spellman said, “Who did?”

Lennox started to say, “Butcher Morgan,” then stopped. He remembered suddenly that Morgan had Nancy Hobbs. He didn’t know where she was and he didn’t want the cops running around shooting wildly until he did. He said, “How would I know?”

Spellman had gained partial control of himself. He looked Lennox over with narrow eyes. “Listen, Bill. If you did plan this, I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I ever do. If you didn’t, I want to know who did, and I’m going to find out. But there’s one thing sure — this pretty well proves that Hobbs did kill Farnero.”

Lennox said, “I’m not so sure of that.”

“You’re not so sure? I suppose an innocent man would take a chance on breaking jail?”

Lennox said, “I’m not so sure that Hobbs went willingly. From where I was, it looked as if he was pretty well into that car. I’m going to find out about it.”