“Gosh, no. But I can find out.”
“Look, Fred,” Gabby said suddenly. “Could Jay and I ride one of these cars down to its destination, just to see what it’s like?”
“Absolutely against the rules,” Sanmore told him brusquely. “If I saw you do it, I’d have to jerk you off the car and have you put out of the yards.” And then he deliberately walked away.
A big freight car came lumbering down the incline. One of the switchmen, moving with lazy coordination, picked up his stick and swung aboard the front of the car.
Gabby and I, acting just as though we had received formal permission from the foreman, walked over to the back ladder.
“You first,” Gabby said.
I favored the leg as much as possible, taking it easy up to the top of the car.
“Hang on,” Gabby said, as his head came up over the edge of the boxcar. I looked ahead and saw we were right on the puzzle switch, and braced myself, expecting that I would be thrown from one side to the other as the trucks went over the frogs; but the big loaded car moved along in majestic dignity. There was only a little jar as the wheels underneath us made noise. Then we were gliding out from the well-lighted area into the half-darkness, then out to where it was completely dark.
We clicked over a couple of other switches, then veered sharply to the right and were coasting along when I heard a scream coming from almost directly beneath the car.
Gabby was where he could look down on the side. Then he was climbing down the ladder. “Come on, Jay!”
I looked back and caught a glimpse of two girls. A man was with them. Evidently he’d put his arms around them and jerked them back out of the way of the car.
I forgot all about the leg as I came down the iron ladder, but Gabby was running alongside and eased me to the ground on that last jump.
My knee gave me a little twinge just as we passed a couple of boxcars on a track on the left. I dropped back and said, “Go ahead, Gabby. I’ll catch up.”
Gabby turned to look at me, and then I saw him stiffen. At what I saw on his face I forgot about the leg and whirled.
Three men, armed with brake sticks, were right on top of us. A year ago I’d have been frightened into giving ground and making useless motions, but I’d learned a lot since then. The man who was nearest me raised his club. I shot my left straight to the Adam’s apple. I saw Gabby pivot sideways to let a blow slide harmlessly past him, grab the man’s wrist, give the arm a swift wrench, then heave. The air became filled with arms and legs as the man went flying through the darkness, to crash against the side of a boxcar, then drop limply to the ground.
The man I had hit was on the ground. He made a wild swing at my shins with the brake stick. Automatically, and without thinking, I tried to jump back out of the way. The injured knee gave way without warning. Then the brake stick cracked against my shin and I went down on my knees. Suddenly I lost balance and fell forward. As I fell I spread apart the first and second fingers of my right hand and jabbed the fingers toward his eyes. If he wanted to play dirty I could teach him something about that. I’d specialized in it.
I heard a faint swish. Something — perhaps the sixth sense which wild things have and which we develop under the spur of life-and-death conflict — warned me. I jerked my head to one side, but not soon enough and not far enough...
The next thing I remembered, I was in a warm musty darkness with a sore head and an aching sensation at my wrists. I tried to move my arms, and realized my hands were tied behind my back.
From the stuffy thick blackness I heard Gabby’s voice. “How’s it coming, Jay?”
“What,” I asked, “happened?”
“The guy from behind,” Gabby explained. “The one who was with the two girls. He caught you on the head just as you went down. I smeared his nose all over his face with a straight right, and then the guy behind me hit me just over the kidneys with everything he had.”
“What about the girls?”
Gabby said, “The redhead ran away. I think she’s gone for help. The other one just stood there watching. The damn spy.”
My head was feeling a little better, although it still ached. I said, “If you ask me, it was the redhead who was the decoy. They wouldn’t have let her run away if she hadn’t been. Where are we?”
“Inside a boxcar.”
“What,” I asked, “is it all about?”
Once more Gabby was silent, but this time it was the tight-lipped silence of a man who is carefully guarding a secret.
I tried to roll over so I could take some of the pressure off my wrists. My shoulder hurt and it was hard to keep my balance.
Gabby heard me move. “Take it easy, Jay. I’m getting this knot worked loose, I think.”
After a minute or two Gabby said triumphantly, “I’ve got it, Jay. Just another minute and we’ll be loose, and then we’ll be out of here.”
I heard his feet on the planks, heard him starting toward me—
With an ominous rumble the door slid back along its tracks. The beam of a flashlight stabbed into the darkness.
Gabby flung himself flat on the floor, keeping his ankles crossed, his hands behind his back.
There was a peculiar scuffling sound from the outer darkness, then the sobbing breathing of a woman.
I got my head around to where I could see a little more of what was happening.
Lorraine Dawson was literally lifted and thrown into the car by three men.
The beam of the flashlight swung around and then suddenly stopped. “Do you,” demanded a voice, “see what I see?”
I looked along the beam of the flashlight. It was centered on the pieces of rope that Gabby had untied from his wrists and ankles.
The three men were bunched there in the doorway, the beam of the flashlight holding Gabby as a target like a helpless airplane caught in a vortex of searchlights.
Gabby made one swift leap and hit the group feet first.
I heard the thud of his heels striking against flesh. The flashlight was jerked up, looped the loop, hit the side of the boxcar, hesitated a moment at the edge of the door, then fell to the tracks. The sounds of bodies threshing around in a struggle, the thud of blows filled the night. All of a sudden there was a lull, then shouts and curses as our assailants piled out of the boxcar. Good old Gabby had given them the slip and was leading them away.
Almost immediately the rumbling noise from the trucks indicated that the car had been banged into rapid motion. The door was still open. I could feel the fresh night air coming in through the opening to eddy around the interior of the boxcar.
“You all right?” I asked the girl.
“Yes... Who are you?”
“Believe it or not, I’m Jayson Burr, who wanted to return the purse you lost. That was when you were masquerading as Muriel Comley. Remember?”
I heard the quick intake of her breath. “How did you get here?” she demanded.
“It’s a long story. Would you mind telling me just what your name really is?”
“I’m Lorraine,” she said.
“And who’s Muriel?”
“Believe it or not. I don’t know. About all I do know is that she had an attractive apartment and wanted a roommate to share expenses. I moved in.”
I swung around and managed to get into a sitting position. “Would you,” I asked, “mind telling me something of what this is all about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me why you don’t know.”
She said, “I only moved in with Muriel a few days ago. She seemed nice, and. just recently secured a divorce. Tonight Muriel was to meet someone who was due to come in on a train. I don’t even know whether it was a man or a woman. We were in town. I wanted to take a cab to the apartment, so I dropped Muriel at the depot. They said the cab had to take on a full load before it started back. You know the rest. I never realized Muriel had left her purse until she telephoned me at the apartment; then, just after she’d hung up, you telephoned.”