That didn't work either. There was a short silence. Then the receiver at the other end of the wire went down with a bang.
I pushed Eggleston's body back from the desk and searched it thoroughly. I might as well, I knew now, because I couldn't leave it here. The time of death couldn't be fixed exactly; thirty minutes or an hour would be about as close as the police could come to it. And that, since the real murderer would have a foolproof alibi, left me the only suspect.
There was a chance that the elevator boy wouldn't remember my loitering around the lobby. There was chance that he couldn't describe me if he did remember. But I, a man on parole, a man with a criminal record, couldn't take those chances. Someway I'd have to get the body out of the building. Hide it. The river would probably be best.
My search produced nothing but a few keys, some coins and another partly filled package of cigarettes. I dropped them back into his coat pocket, and stood back studying him. He'd bled very little, and that had been absorbed by his hat and hair. He wasn't bleeding at all now. There were no stains to clean up. Nothing to do but get him out of there.
That was all.
I tested the outer door and found it unlocked; I could have walked in instead of climbing. I glanced at the snipped chains of the transom. They would be discovered and arouse comment, but without the body they didn't mean anything. In time, of course, Eggleston's absence would arouse inquiries. But by that time, I hoped, I would have the riddle of Dr. Luther solved. I would know what Eggleston had known and, hence, who had killed him.
But that was something to work out later, when, perhaps, I had more to work on. Right now Eggleston's body had to be got out of there.
I opened the door, glanced out, and let it close again. Going back into the other office, I picked the body up in my arms, carried it to the door and pulled it open with my fingers. It was still clear outside. The other offices were quiet and dark.
I let the door close behind me and walked swiftly down the corridor to the turn. I stuck my head around it; all clear there too. I broke into a trot; moving as rapidly as I could with the dead weight I was carrying.
I reached the elevators, and set the body down in front of the door of the unused one. Panting, I pressed the signal button. My car was parked two blocks away. I needed a total of at least five minutes. Two minutes to get there. A minute to get the car off the lot. Two minutes to get back.
Just five minutes.
I heard the elevator door clang at the bottom of the shaft. Cables whined. I flattened myself against the wall and waited.
Light bobbled on the corridor as the elevator moved past and then came back to the landing. The door rattled and banged open.
"Going down," came a sullen snarl.
I held my breath, clenched my fist into a hard, leather-covered ball.
"Going"-he stuck his head out -"ugh!"
My fist came up hammer-like beneath his chin. His head went back, and then he toppled straight forward. I caught him, stretched him out on the floor of the car and felt his heart. The beat was fast but steady. Aside from a cut lip, where his teeth had snapped into it, he wasn't hurt.
The door had closed automatically. I opened it again, holding it with my foot while I reached out and dragged Eggleston inside. A moment later, having worked out the simple controls of the elevator, I brought it to a stop between two floors.
I sank down on the stool, brushing the sweat from my eyes. Almost instantly, the memory of that automatic door brought me back to my feet.
I couldn't prop the door open while I went after my car. Not with a dead man in one corner and a senseless one in another. There might not be much traffic in the building at night, but obviously there was some. Otherwise an elevator wouldn't be in operation.
Feeling through the operator's pockets, I found what I was looking for, something I'd seen used at various times. It was a short thin piece of metal rod. An elevator "key." Thrust through two small overlapping holes in the elevator doors, it permitted them to be opened from the outside.
I dropped it into my pocket, shut off the lights and slowly lowered the car to the first floor. Looking through the small glass door panel, I saw that the lobby was empty. I stepped out and the door snapped shut, and I hurried away.
When I got back, I made a careful left turn and drew up just short of the building entrance. The street was unlighted. The only illumination came from the dimmed lights of the lobby.
I set the throttle so that the motor was barely turning over. Then, easing the left door off the catch, I slid out the right one, leaving it open behind me.
I stepped toward the entrance-and I stopped. My heart stopped for a moment. Someone was in there. Pounding on the elevator door. Pounding and, now, shouting.
I forced myself to walk on. I walked on, slowly, glancing inside as I passed. I couldn't get a good look at him, and he didn't look in my direction at all. He was too busy with his angry pounding and kicking on the elevator door.
I waited a moment at the alley, and turned and walked back again, Time! I'd run over my margin of safety minutes ago. Even without that pounding, the elevator operator was due to come to his senses any moment. And if it kept on, if I couldn't get in there-
The racket rose to a thunderous crescendo. Then it stopped, and footsteps crossed the lobby, and there was another sound: The slamming of the door to the stairs. He'd given up. He'd decided to walk.
I ran for the entrance, glancing up and down the street. All clear. Thank God this building was where it was, that this was a side street. Racing through the lobby, I yanked the elevator key from my pocket and jammed it through the overlapping holes in the door.
From inside the car came a steady rattling buzz. Signal buttons. Someone wanted to come down. Several people from the sound of things. Probably some of them had already started to walk down. Were already on the stairs. And I couldn't wait. There'd be more. What if I was penned up there with a dead man, and-
Something was holding the door of the car, pressing against it. It wouldn't open. It opened a few inches, but-but-
The clatter of the signals was growing louder. And above it, from somewhere upstairs, I heard the vicious slamming of a door. Then another. Then voices calling to each other, and the hollow echo of footsteps coming downward.
The door slid open another agonizing inch. I dropped the key, got both hands into the opening and threw everything I had into one gigantic tug.
It grated and groaned-and then it shot open. And the elevator operator sagged through it. He'd revived partly. He'd been leaning against the door, holding it with his weight.
He fell forward, knees limp, head down. I gave him a swinging right. He shot backward into the car, struck the back wall, and fell face-forward to the floor.
Too hard. I hadn't meant to hit him so hard. But no time to think of that, now. No time to look at him.
I lifted Eggleston's body. I clawed the door open with one hand, and staggered outside. Only seconds, now. Only a few seconds to get the body into the car and get away. The steps on. the stairs were rushing downward. They'd passed the second floor. Any moment the lobby door would open, and-.