I stood thinking, then I went out, climbed into the Buick. "Tell Mrs. Cain I won't be twenty minutes," I said to Ben, drove on to the highway.
I paid a visit to the police-station, asked to see Lieutenant Mallory.
Mallory and I knew each other well. He was always passing the service station, and he knew where he could get iced beer with a smile from Clair whenever he wanted it.
"What's on your mind, Cain?" he asked, offering me a cigarette.
I took it. We lit up. "I want protection," I said.
He gaped at me, burst into a roar of laughter. "That's rich," he said. "You want protection. I don't believe it. Why you're the original tough egg."
"I know," I said, "but this is different. My shooting days are over. Take a pew, Lieutenant, I want to tell you a story."
I gave him the story, told him Bat was after us, and that Lois had just called me.
"You're not scared of a punk like Thompson, are you?" he asked, blankly.
"I didn't say I was scared of anyone," I said patiently. "I'm respectable now. My wild days are over. I own a wife and a service station. I'm not risking being sent to jail or the chair because you boys can't do your job."
He eyed me thoughtfully. "Well, we'll keep an eye on your place," he said. "Will that do?"
"That's what I want, and suppose Bat turns up when your eye isn't on the place. What then?"
"You deal with him. You'd be within your rights."
I shook my head. "I've killed about six men now and pleaded self defence. That plea is wearing a little thin. A bright lawyer might sway a jury and rail-road me to the chair. I'm through with that stuff. Have me made a deputy sheriff. I haven't even a permit for this rod."
"Don't show me," he said, hurriedly closing his eyes. "I don't want to know about it. I can't make you a deputy sheriff. Maybe the D.A. might play."
I had an idea. "Say, Bat's wanted by the Federal Office. Maybe . . ."
"Try them," Mallory said. "In the meantime I'll detail a patrolman to keep an eye on your place."
I thanked him, drove over to the Federal Bureau, asked to see someone in charge.
It took me an hour, but I came out with a gun permit, and a piece of paper which stated that I was temporarily attached to the Federal Office as special investigator. A long distance call to Hoskiss had got me that.
I was late back for supper, and Clair was worried, but as soon as she saw the light in my eye, she brightened.
"Where have you been?" she asked, leading me into the dining-room where supper was waiting.
I told her about Lois; showed her the gun permit and my authority.
"I'm a G-man now," I said. "How do you like that?"
She looked a little scared, but tried to hide it.
"I like it fine," she said. "There's a cop in the kitchen eating apple pie. He said he had been detailed to keep an eye on me until you returned."
I laughed. "Swell idea," I said. "Well, I'm ready for Bat now. I don't think they'll come after you, honey. Lois wouldn't have told me if that was their idea."
Three days went by, and still nothing happened. Every three hours a patrolman would look in, wink at Clair, say "No trouble?" shrug and go on his way.
I didn't relax this time. I was sure something would happen before long, and if I didn't keep on my toes, I'd be surprised.
It happened the following night.
We had gone to bed about eleven. I had locked the bedroom door, bolted it. I had fixed the mesh-wire screen over the open window. No one could get in our room without waking us.
It was a clear moonlight night, and the night air was hot. Ben had been busy up to ten-thirty, and now trade had slackened off.
Clair and I lay side by side in the big double bed. I was half asleep when I heard a car drive up. I thought nothing of it, relaxed, began to drift off. Then suddenly I was wide awake, listening. Clair also sat up, looked at me in the dim light, whispered, "What is it?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. Did you hear anything?"
"I thought I did," she said. "But I'm not sure."
We listened. Silence.
"A car came in a minute or so ago," I whispered. "It hasn't gone." I swung my feet to the floor. "I don't hear Ben around I"
I went to the window. A big Plymouth sedan stood on the driveway. There was no sign of Ben nor the driver.
I waited, frowning.
Footsteps sounded on the concrete below, feet scraped, paused, came on. A woman's shadow came into my vision. I couldn't see the woman unless I moved the screen and leaned out of the window. I wasn't going to do that. I studied the shadow.
A sudden electric thrill ran down my back. I thought I recognized the shape.
I turned quickly, grabbed my trousers, slipped them on, dragged on socks, shoes, snatched up my gun.
"Have they come?" Clair asked in a small voice.
"I think so," I said grimly. "There's a woman down there. I think it's Lois. Stay here. I'm going to have a look."
She whipped out of bed, clung to me.
"No, don't," she said. "Please, darling. Let's call the police. They want you to go out there. They'll be waiting for you."
I patted her arm. "Okay, we'll call for the police," I said. "You better get some clothes on."
I slipped out of the room, crept down the stairs. It was dark. I moved cautiously, silently. I suddenly remembered what Clairbold had once said about the art of stalking. It occurred to me that I might have put in a little practice in my room the way he had. It wasn't such a dumb idea after all.
I reached the lobby, crossed to the front room where the telephone was. We had drawn the curtains before going to bed, but I didn't risk putting the light on. I wanted them to think we hadn't heard them.
I groped around, trying to find the telephone, found it, lifted the receiver. There was no humming sound on the line. I rattled the cradle once, twice, smiled grimly, hung up. They had cut the wires.
I crossed to the window, lifted the curtain an inch, looked out. The Plymouth still stood deserted on the runway. I couldn't see the woman, but after peering round I saw a dark shape lying by the office building. It could have been Ben or it might have been one of the dogs.
I went back to the lobby, stood listening.
Clair came to the head of the stairs; she had a flash-light in her hand.
"Keep that light off the curtains," I said softly.
"Are the police coming?" she asked.
"The line's cut," I returned. "Wait here. I'm going to look out the back."
"Don't go out," she said breathlessly. "I know that's what they expect you to do. They're watching the doors."
I thought she was probably right.
"I won't," I said, moved along the short passage to the kitchen.
Here, the blinds weren't drawn. I crawled on hands and knees across the room, raised myself, looked out of the window.