The trio dashed after him.
“Stop!” Max called. “Stop in the name of all that’s civilized and decent!”
Subject plunged through another doorway.
“That’s the way it is with evil-doers,” Max grumbled. “They’re not at all interested in all that’s civilized and decent!”
“Where is he now, Max?”
“Subject has just entered ballroom, 99.”
Max stopped-and 99 and Fang pulled up behind him.
“Subject is doing the watusi with… with… well, the fact is, subject is doing the watusi alone.”
“What now, Max?”
“This calls for a counter maneuver, 99. To be more specific, an old-fashioned waltz. You and I will waltz over to subject and interrogate him on the dance floor.”
“All right, Max.”
Max took 99 in his arms and they began waltzing in the direction of subject.
A moment later, Max felt a nipping at his ankle. He looked down. “Yes, what is it, Fang?”
“Rorff!”
“No, you may not cut in!”
“Max,” 99 said, “subject is leaving us behind. He watusied right out the door.”
“Darn! And just when we were coming to the part where I whirl you around! Well… after him!”
The trio charged across the dance floor, then through the doorway.
“There subject goes!” Max pointed. “Down that dark corridor!”
They raced after subject.
“Can you see him, Max?”
“Yes, 99, he’s reached a dead end! He’s trapped!”
“Thank goodness. I’m winded.”
“Oops! Scratch that dead end, 99. He just ducked into a stateroom!”
“Dead end scratched, Max.”
They reached the end of the corridor. “In here,” Max said, indicating a stateroom door. “And, there’s no way out. This time, 99, we have him for sure!”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, I do not want to place any bets on it.”
Max slowly opened the stateroom door. He put his head in. Then he withdrew it, looking surprised.
“What is it, Max?”
“He’s in there,” Max replied.
“Yes…?”
“He’s in there, sitting on the bed, waiting for us,” Max said, dazed.
“What else, Max?”
“That’s all. That’s it.”
“But you look so surprised.”
“99, as far as I can remember this has never happened before. Evil-doers always fight to the last. This evil-doer is giving up without a last-ditch struggle.” His eyes narrowed. “It must be a trick.”
“What can we do, Max?”
“Nothing, 99. The only choice we have is to walk into the trap. That’s the only way we’ll find out what it is.”
“Rorff!”
“No, Fang, going to our staterooms and getting a good night’s sleep will not make it go away.” He faced the doorway again. “All right-into the breach!”
Max pushed the door open.
Subject was still sitting on the bed, waiting. He was a round little man with a woebegone expression. His suitcase was resting on his lap.
“I surrender,” subject said. “You’ve got me. I give up.”
“A likely story,” Max sneered. “Go on-spring the trap and let’s get it over with.”
A tear rolled down subject’s cheek. “I never should have tried it,” he wept. “I was a fool. I should have known I couldn’t get away with it.”
“Watch out for those tears,” Max warned 99 and Fang. “They may be a nerve gas.”
Subject shoved the suitcase at Max. “Take it! I never want to see it again,” he sobbed.
Max jumped back. “Ah-ah-no you don’t! That’s an old one, my friend! Your suitcase is triggered to explode when opened-right?”
“It’s just a suitcase,” subject wept.
Max smiled slyly. “If that’s true-then you open it,” he said.
“I can’t bear to look inside it any more,” subject moaned.
“Ah-hah! Caught you! Since when is it unbearable to look at something that can’t be seen?”
Subject stopped weeping and peered at Max. “Pardon?”
“The jig is up, Dr. X,” Max said. “We know what’s in that suitcase.”
“Yes, I know you know. That’s why-” He looked closer at Max. “What did you call me?”
“A-ho-here comes the trick. I suppose you’re going to deny that you are the diabolical Dr. X.”
Subject nodded. “I’m Hemingway James,” he said. “I live at 707 Spruce Street in Boston and I’m a retired banker.”
The sly smile reappeared on Max’s lips. “I see… and you’re carrying those six invisible guinea pigs to Europe to stash them away in a Swiss bank-right?”
Subject stared vacantly at Max for a second. Then he leaned his head back and screamed. “Heeeeelp!”
Max whipped out his pistol. “None of that!”
“You’re a nut!” Subject protested.
“Max… you know, maybe…” 99 began.
“99, don’t be fooled,” Max said. “I warned you that Dr. X was planning on pulling a trick.”
“Rorff!”
“Right-that’s the way to settle it,” Max said. He turned back to subject. “Open that suitcase. If there’s nothing in it, you’re as good as convicted.”
Subject suddenly hugged the suitcase to his chest. “I won’t!”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Max said smugly. “Give me that suitcase!”
“There’s nothing in here but money!” subject protested.
“Money?”
“Yes. A million dollars. I stole it from the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National Bank.”
Max peered at him dubiously. “You stole a million dollars from a bank?”
“Well, not alone,” subject admitted. “I had a friend there.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said, “but I find that hard to believe.”
“Would you believe a half-million dollars?”
“Not likely.”
“A thousand dollars?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Twelve dollars and change?”
Max suddenly reached out and snatched the suitcase from subject. “Now, we’ll get at the truth!” he gloated.
“Keep it right-side-up,” subject warned. “The thousand-dollar bills are fragile.”
Max placed the suitcase on the bed, then, dramatically, opened it. He turned slightly green.
99 peered over his shoulder. “Money!”
“A million dollars,” Max sighed. He picked up a sheaf of thousand-dollar bills. “Here’s a little sticker attached,” he said. “It says: ‘Stolen from the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National Bank’.”
“That’s cute,” 99 giggled.
Max turned to subject. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We thought you were someone else.”
“A fine time to be sorry,” subject grumbled. “Chasing a man in and out of lifeboats, interrupting his watusi, chasing him down dark corridors, trapping him in his own stateroom. An honest man isn’t safe any more.”
“My apologies,” Max said.
“Treating a man like a common criminal!”
“Really, we’re very sorry.”
“I ought to report you to the Captain. And, I would, too-except that he’d probably ask a lot of questions about that stolen million dollars.”
“I don’t think so,” Max said. “The Captain has a big heart.”
“Still, it would be a lot of bother,” subject said. “I accept your apology.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“That’s all right. Just get out of here now, will you? I want to count my money.”
“The bank’s money, you mean.”
“ My money,” subject replied. “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
Max, 99 and Fang backed toward the door. “My regards to your friend at the Boston Sheep Drovers and First National,” Max said.
“Thank you. And the same to Dr. X.”
Max closed the door. “Sweet guy,” he said.
“Maybe we should report him,” 99 mused.
“I think we’ve caused him enough trouble,” Max said. “Besides, if we did, he just might turn nasty and report us to the Captain. And you know what a kettle of fish that would be. The Captain warned us-next time, into the brig.”
They moved down the corridor. At a corner, Max nearly collided with a man carrying a suitcase.
“Sorry,” Max said.
“No, no-my fault.”
The man walked on.
“This ship is full of a bunch of sweet guys,” Max said.
“Max-that man-”
“Nice as could be,” Max said.