Rednose was interested but skeptical. “Yeah, but if you get out, what the hell would you be coming back for? How’d we get that other ten?”
“I’ll be back. If not, I’ll mail it. You’ll have to take a chance there. Though if the Sheriff has anything to say about it, I won’t be gone long. He wants me for murder.” Merlini put the word in verbal italics.
Our friends looked at each other uneasily. This was out of their class.
Willie said then, “Okay. You’re the boss. I’d sorta like to stick around to see dribble-puss’s face when he discovers you’ve crashed outta his nice, shiny new can.”
Quickly Merlini transferred the men to our cells and began locking them in.
“Why bother with that?” I asked. “If we just throw the switch that’ll be enough.”
Merlini shook his head. “You’ve no feeling at all for the finer points of jail breaking, Ross.”
“Maybe Hooper will believe in ghosts then. That is, he may, if we can get the rest of the way out without being seen. The tough part is still to come. There’s only one way — out the front door, and we’ve got to — Ross! Quick! Someone coming.”
I had heard the footsteps, too. I ran for the door on my toes, making as little sound as possible. I got there just as it opened. Robbins’s astonishment was all that saved us. My haymaker arrived in the nick of time — just as his mouth opened and the warning cry rose in his throat. The punch landed square on the point of his chin; his jaw closed with a sharp dental click; and Merlini, arriving as though it had been rehearsed, caught him as he fell.
“I was afraid we were having it too much our own way,” Merlini said. “Now we are in for it. They’ll be looking for him when he doesn’t come back and, even if we do get out, we won’t have any time to ourselves at all. There’s only one thing to do. Take his feet.”
We carried Robbins into cell number three and laid him out on a cot. Merlini relieved him of his gun and moved back toward the outer door again. “I’m afraid we won’t leave a mystery behind us after all,” he said. “It’s going to be only too obvious to Hooper how we—”
More footsteps approached the door from the other side. When it swung open, Hooper was saying, “Robbins, just in case that magician still has any funny—”
“—ideas about escaping,” Merlini’s voice finished for him. “Sorry we must be going, Chief. We’ve had a lovely time, but it’s getting late. Take his gun, Ross.”
Even without the gun I don’t think I’d have needed to give Hooper a sock on the jaw to quiet him. The very sight of us was having all the effect of a mulekick.
“Now, Hooper, if you’ll just ask Captain Schafer and Stevens to step in here, I think we can handle the rest of the boys two at a time. And careful of your voice.”
Since he thought Merlini was a murderer and crazy to boot, he was far more impressed than I would have been at the sight of Merlini’s gun. The Chief didn’t know that Merlini had a positive dislike for firearms of any sort, and had no intention of using one now.
He gulped a bit, got his vocal chords under control, and called out as directed.
“Thanks,” Merlini said. “This way, Chief. You watch the door, Ross.”
Hooper started a protest, but Merlini cut him off. “No arguments. March!”
The Chief’s expression was a really interesting sight. Baffled bewilderment and griping rage played across his face like the shifting flicker of an Aurora Borealis. His face, also like the northern lights, was green, and I hoped fervently that when the incandescent gases that were beneath its surface finally erupted I would be miles away.
Merlini put Hooper in a cell and I threw the switch. Then the Captain and Stevens arrived together. Expressions exactly similar to the Chief’s blossomed on the faces of everyone who walked through that door in the next few minutes. I collected a couple more guns; Schafer called and kindly decoyed his two troopers and the remaining three of the Chief’s men into our trap; we filed them all neatly away.
Merlini told Schafer, “I’m sorry about this. You can blame Inspector Gavigan. If he hadn’t double-crossed me I wouldn’t have needed to take such extreme measures. Is O’Halloran still around?”
“No,” Schafer snapped, “he’s gone. And if you think you can get away with this—”
“Let’s go, Ross,” said Merlini. “But quietly. I don’t trust the Captain much.”
We had nearly reached the door of the Chief’s office, when hell broke loose in the cell-block behind us. Quickly Merlini kicked in the Chief’s door. O’Halloran stood at Hooper’s desk, examining the paraffin molds Burns had made, his back toward us. He pivoted instantly, and, in turning, started to say, “What’s all that racket out—”
Then he saw Merlini’s gun and his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t move your hands, O’Halloran,” the latter commanded. “Give me his gun, Ross.”
O’Halloran was as puzzled as the others, but as I went toward him he laughed. “All you need is a cutlass between your teeth, Ross. I’ll be damned!”
I’m afraid I did look rather like Sir Henry Morgan preparing to repel boarders. I had a .45 in each hand and two more tucked into my belt. I transferred one to my coat pocket and took O’Halloran’s .32 and passed it to Merlini.
“I collect firearms too,” I said. “Official police weapons mostly.”
“How the hell did you get loose?” O’Halloran asked. “And what did you do to Hooper? That sounds like his bellow out there.”
“It is,” Merlini said. “He, most of the Norwalk police department, and a detachment of state troopers are signed up for a little night course in applied penology. Class won’t be dismissed for some time yet, I hope. To make sure of that, we’ve got to do something about you. You can either join them or sign articles with us. Which will it be?”
“You do things up brown, don’t you?” O’Halloran said, regarding us thoughtfully.
“It’s my favorite color,” Merlini replied. “Make up your mind. We’re getting out of here before something else delays us.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going back to that circus lot and polish off some unfinished business before I get tangled up in more official red tape. You’re getting an invite to go along because I want that story of yours. What about it?”
O’Halloran grinned. “Let’s go,” he said, starting for the door.
The angry roaring from the cell-block outside reminded me of the Bronx Zoo at feeding time.
O’Halloran added, “Boy, oh boy! I hate to think of what will happen when Hooper, Schafer & Co. catch up with us. I hope you’ll remember that I came with you because I had no choice. You sure you haven’t bitten off more than you can digest, Merlini?”
“I don’t know.” Merlini was trying on a uniform cap that lay on Burns’s desk. “I expect there’ll be signs of a stomach ache. But if we can bring back the real murderer, Hooper and Schafer will have to take it and like it.”
“I warn you, he won’t take anything less than that. You two have chalked up a whole damn police blotter full of offenses; and, if you wear those uniforms out of here, they’ll jump you for impersonating an officer. But”—O’Halloran paused—“I’ll give odds of two to one that you pull it off.”
“You will?” Merlini asked. “Why?”
“Because,” O’Halloran smiled, “I’ll make you a present of the murderer. I know who he is! I’ve got this case on ice!”