Абрахам Меррит - Burn, Witch, Burn!

looked as if he had a lot to do with it. The marshal said: 'Hombre, I don't think you done it-but I'm the

lone one on the jury. What say?' The hombre say, 'Marshal, give me two weeks, an' if I don't bring in the

feller that done it, you hang me.' The marshal says, 'Fair enough. The temporary verdict is deceased died

by shock.' It was shock all right. Bullet shock. All right, before the two weeks was up, along comes this

feller with the murderer hog-tied to his saddle."

"I get your point, McCann. But this isn't Arizona."

"I know it ain't. But couldn't you certify it was heart disease? Temporarily? An' give me a week? Then if I

don't come through, shoot the works. I won't run away. It's this way, Doc. If you tell the bulls, you might

just as well pick up one of them guns an' shoot me an' Paul dead right now. If we tell the bulls about the

doll, they'll laugh themselves sick an' fry us at Sing Sing. If we don't, we fry anyway. If by a miracle the

bulls drop us-there's them in the boss's crowd that'll soon remedy that. I'm telling you, Doc, you'll be

killing two innocent men. An' worse, you'll never find out who did kill the boss, because they'll never look

any further than us. Why should they?"

A cloud of suspicion gathered around my conviction of the pair's innocence. The proposal, naive as it

seemed, was subtle. If I assented, the gunman and the chauffeur would have a whole week to get away,

if that was the plan. If McCann did not come back, and I told the truth of the matter, I would be an

accessory after the fact-in effect, co-murderer. If I pretended that my suspicions had only just been

aroused, I stood, at the best, convicted of ignorance. If they were captured, and recited the agreement,

again I could be charged as an accessory. It occurred to me that McCann's surrender of the pistols was

extraordinarily clever. I could not say that my assent had been constrained by threats. Also, it might have

been only a cunningly conceived gesture to enlist my confidence, weaken my resistance to his appeal.

How did I know that the pair did not have still other weapons, ready to use if I refused?

Striving to find a way out of the trap, I walked over to Ricori. I took the precaution of dropping the

automatics into my pockets as I went. I bent over Ricori. His flesh was cold, but not with the peculiar

chill of death. I examined him once more, minutely. And now I could detect the faintest of pulsation in the

heart a bubble began to form at the corner of his lips-Ricori lived!

I continued to bend over him, thinking faster than ever I had before. Ricori lived, yes. But it did not lift my

peril. Rather it increased it. For if McCann had stabbed him, if the pair had been in collusion, and learned

that they had been unsuccessful, would they not finish what they had thought ended? With Ricori alive,

Ricori able to speak and to accuse them-a death more certain than the processes of law confronted

them. Death at Ricori's command at the hands of his henchmen. And in finishing Ricori they would at the

same time be compelled to kill me.

Still bending, I slipped a hand into my pocket, clenched an automatic, and then whirled upon them with

the gun leveled.

"Hands up! Both of you!" I said.

Amazement flashed over McCann's face, consternation over the chauffeur's. But their hands went up.

I said, "There's no need of that clever little agreement, McCann. Ricori is not dead. When he's able to

talk he'll tell what happened to him."

I was not prepared for the effect of this announcement. If McCann was not sincere, he was an

extraordinary actor. His lanky body stiffened, I had seldom seen such glad relief as was stamped upon

his face. Tears rolled down his tanned cheeks. The chauffeur dropped to his knees, sobbing and praying.

My suspicions were swept away. I did not believe this could be acting. In some measure I was ashamed

of myself.

"You can drop your hands, McCann," I said, and slipped the automatic back in my pocket.

He said, hoarsely: "Will he live?"

I answered: "I think he has every chance. If there's no infection, I'm sure of it."

"Thank God!" whispered McCann, and over and over, "Thank God!"

And just then Braile entered, and stood staring in amazement at us.

"Ricori has been stabbed. I'll explain the whole matter later," I told him. "Small puncture over the heart

and probably penetrating it. He's suffering mainly from shock. He's coming out of it. Get him up to the

Annex and take care of him until I come."

Briefly I reviewed what I had done and suggested the immediate further treatment. And when Ricori had

been removed, I turned to the gunmen.

"McCann," I said, "I'm not going to explain. Not now. But here are your pistols, and Paul's. I'm giving

you your chance."

He took the automatics, looking at me with a curious gleam in his eyes.

"I ain't saying I wouldn't like to know what touched you off, Doc," he said. "But whatever you do is all

right by me-if only you can bring the boss around."

"Undoubtedly there are some who will have to be notified of his condition," I replied. "I'll leave that all to

you. All I know is that he was on his way to me. He had a heart attack in the car. You brought him to

me. I am now treating him-for heart attack. If he should die, McCann-well, that will be another matter."

"I'll do the notifying," he answered. "There's only a couple that you'll have to see. Then I'm going down to

that doll joint an' get the truth outa that hag."

His eyes were slits, his mouth a slit, too.

"No," I said, firmly. "Not yet. Put a watch on the place. If the woman goes out, discover where she goes.

Watch the girl as closely. If it appears as though either of them or both of them are moving away-running

off-let them. But follow them. I don't want them molested or even alarmed until Ricori can tell what

happened there."

"All right," he said, but reluctantly.

"Your doll story," I reminded him, sardonically, "would not be so convincing to the police as to my

somewhat credulous mind. Take no chance of them being injected into the matter. As long as Ricori is

alive, there is no need of them being so injected."

I took him aside.

"Can you trust the chauffeur to do no talking?"

"Paul's all right," he said.

"Well, for both your sakes, he would better be," I warned.

They took their departure. I went up to Ricori's room. His heart was stronger, his respiration weak but

encouraging. His temperature, although still dangerously subnormal, had improved. If, as I had told

McCann, there was no infection, and if there had been no poison nor drug upon the weapon with which

he had been stabbed, Ricori should live.

Later that night two thoroughly polite gentlemen called upon me, heard my explanation of Ricori's

condition, asked if they might see him, did see him, and departed. They assured me that "win or lose" I

need have no fear about my fees, nor have any hesitancy in bringing in the most expensive consultants. In

exchange, I assured them that I believed Ricori had an excellent chance to recover. They asked me to

allow no one to see him except themselves, and McCann. They thought it might save me trouble to have

a couple of men whom they would send to me, to sit at the door of the room-outside, of course, in the

hall. I answered that I would be delighted.

In an exceedingly short time two quietly watchful men were on guard at Ricori's door, just as they had

been over Peters'.

In my dreams that night dolls danced around me, pursued me, threatened me. My sleep was not pleasant.