Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

Harry waited long enough to see a light flash up in a room on the ground floor then, smiling to himself, he started the car and drove rapidly down the street. He hadn’t far to go. He knew the district well, and knew there was an all-night garage close by. He left the car there and walked back to Julie’s flat.

For some minutes he stood outside, looking up and down the street. It was after three o’clock in the morning and only a stray cat attracted his attention. Then, moving with confident ease, he swung himself over the iron railings guarding the basement of the house, caught hold of a stack pipe and climbed on to Julie’s window-sill. He pushed up the window and stepped into the room and closed the window. He had moved with extraordinary speed and quietness. The whole manoeuvre did not take more than a few seconds.

He pushed aside the curtain. The room in which he found himself was large and shabbily furnished and without much comfort. There was a lamp by the bed that cast a pink glow over the harsh colour of the wallpaper and furnishings.

Across the room was a door that stood half open. The sound of running water told him it was the bathroom. He could hear Julie humming to herself as she prepared for bed, and he grinned to himself. He took off his hat and coat, sat down in an arm-chair and lit a cigarette.

After a few minutes Julie came into the bedroom. She had on a pair of emerald-green pyjamas that set off her figure admirably, and her hair was loose to her shoulders. She came to an abrupt standstill when she saw him sitting there, and turned white, then red.

‘Hello, remember me?’ he said casually. ‘Get into bed, Julie. I want to talk to you.’

She looked wildly round the room, her eyes went to the dressing-table, and she made a quick dash. But Harry was there first. He picked up the two diamond rings she had half-concealed under her handbag as she reached him.

‘Put them down!’ she whispered furiously.

Instead he slipped them into his pocket.

‘Sorry, kid, they’re too important to fool with,’ he said gently. ‘I want to talk to you. Don’t get angry. Let’s be matey, Julie. Get me a cup of tea and let’s talk.’

‘You devil!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘I did all that for you and now you’re not going to pay me. You rotten stinker!’

‘Who said I wasn’t going to pay you? You want a job, don’t you? Well, I’ve got a damned good one for you. Honest, I’m not fooling.’

‘What kind of job?’

‘Get me some tea and take that scowl off your face,’ he said.

‘Go on, Julie, I can’t talk until I’ve had some tea.’

‘You’re the limit, Harry,’ she said, weakening. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to make you tea. I won’t be long.’

He finished his cigarette while she made the tea.

‘It’s just the way you handle ’em,’ he told himself. ‘I reckon I handled her beautifully. In a little while I’ll have her just where I want her.’

She returned to the bedroom, set the tray on the table and poured out the tea.

‘What about this job?’ she demanded, as she handed him a cup. ‘And don’t forget you owe me fifty pounds.’

‘What did Sam pay you?’

‘Twelve pounds a week.’

He whistled softly.

‘You won’t get that again in a hurry unless...’ He paused, went on: ‘You wouldn’t have to be too fussy what you did, Julie, and there may be risks.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that. How long have you been with Sam?’

‘Oh, six months.’

‘And before that?’

‘In a twopenny library.’

‘And before that?’

‘I worked in a factory,’ Julie said, frowning at the memory.

‘So you’ve only been in the money for six months?’

‘Yes, and I’m not going to get out of it if I can help it.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘Until now I’ve never had any fun. Do you think you could find me anything good?’

‘I know I can.’

‘Well, what?’

He sipped his tea while he studied her.

‘I don’t believe you have a job for me at all,’ she said, seeing him hesitate. ‘You’re just leading me up the garden path. If you are... you’ll be sorry! There’s nothing to stop me seeing Dawson and telling him about those rings, is there?’

Harry nearly dropped his cup. A threat like that wasn’t funny, even if she were bluffing, and he didn’t think she was.

‘Now wait a minute, Julie. You be careful what you’re saying. There’s a word for a girl who squeals to the police and it’s an ugly one.’

‘Words don’t hurt me,’ Julie retorted, tossing her head. ‘What about this job?’

‘One of the big money-making jobs at the moment is being a lady’s maid,’ he began cautiously. ‘A friend of mine runs a domestic agency. She has a vacancy and could fix you up.’

Julie stiffened, and stared at him.

‘Are you suggesting I’m to become a servant?’ she asked.

‘Now, do relax, Julie. You’re forever getting on your hind legs. You don’t care how you earn money so long as it’s big money, do you? What’s wrong in being a maid? After all, you worked in a café. You’re not all that proud, are you? This is a good job. You’ll live in a luxury flat, have time off, good food and money...’

‘But a maid...’ She got up and began to pace up and down. Harry watched her pyjama’d figure, aware that his mind was wandering from business. ‘No, I really can’t. Hewart paid me twelve pounds a week. I can’t live on less and I’m not going to. A maid doesn’t get anything like that.’

‘This one does,’ Harry said with a grin. ‘This one is special. What do you say to fifteen quid a week and a fifty pound bonus at the end of the job?’

‘But no one would pay that,’ she exclaimed, turning to stare at him.

‘Now look, don’t be inquisitive.’ There was a slight edge to his voice. ‘I want you to make a little easy money and not to know too much about the way you’re making it. Are you smart enough to understand that?’

‘Oh, I see.’ She was instantly suspicious. ‘It’s some kind of racket.’

‘Sort of, but if you don’t know what it’s all about then you won’t get into trouble, will you?’

‘The same old argument,’ she thought, a little wearily. ‘He’s right, of course. Hewart used it. See nothing, know nothing and you’ll be all right. Well, it’s worked up to now.’

‘All you have to do is to work at a certain place for a month or so,’ Harry went on. ‘You’ll get three quid a week and all found. I’ll arrange for you to get twelve quid in addition, and at the end of the job a fifty-quid bonus. What’s more I’ll give you a tenner now if you’ll close with the deal.’

‘But, Harry, I’d like to think about it...’

‘All right, tell me to-morrow. Sleep on it. Fifteen quid week and a fifty-pound bonus. That’s not to be sneezed at.’

‘You’re not pulling my leg, are you?’ she asked, suddenly suspicious again. ‘You could walk out of here and leave me flat. I wasn’t born yesterday. I might never see you again. And then what should I do?’

He levered himself out of his chair, went over to sit beside her on the bed.

‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ he said, and pulled her to him. Whispering in her ear, he said, ‘I’m not going to leave you to-night.’

She pulled away and jumped to her feet.

‘Oh, no! I’m not having any of that. I’m not that easy. No, you get out. I’ll chance seeing you again.’

He laughed at her.

‘You don’t know your own mind, do you? First I’m to stay, then I’m to go. Well, I’m going to make up your mind for you.’

She made a hasty grab at her dressing-gown, but he caught her in his arms.