know where you can lay your hands on ten thousand dollars?,"
"Ten thous – Of course not!"
"Neither do I. But that's what it's got to be, Dusty. That or the other. For ten grand she keeps quiet. She puts it down in black and white that none of us laid a finger on her, and she left the hotel of her own free will."
He paused, again studying the bellboy, smiling again secretly. He went on, frowning earnestly. "When I say I ain't got it, I mean it, kid. It's strictly under your hat, see, but I'm broke. I'm a hell of a lot worse than broke."
"But" – Dusty shook his head, incredulously- "but how-"
"I can still flash a roll? Drive a big car? Pay heavy rent? Yeah, I can do it – for a couple more weeks. I've been slipping for a long time, Dusty, and now I'm right down at the bottom of the sack. I'm broke. I've got a hell of a big income-tax rap hanging over me. I've been stalling it for years, and now I can't stall any longer. I either pay up or else." He sighed, flung the emptied bottle out the window. "Of course, it makes it easy for me in a way. The spot I'm in, this dame could yell her head off and she couldn't make it much worse."
"B-but-"
"Sure," Tug nodded. "There's you and the boys to think about. And of course I don't like to just sit still and wait for old Uncle Whiskers to sock it to me. If I can't do anything better, I'd like to get a big enough roll to skip the country."
He lapsed into another silence, his big good-natured face long with concern. His big face that looked good-natured turned toward the window. There was a small mirror there, attached to the windscreen. It gave him a full view of Dusty's tortured features.
He sighed heavily, shifted the sound into an absently amused laugh. "Y'know it's a funny thing, kid – about this Hillis woman, I mean. You might think she'd be sore as hell at you, but she don't seem to be at all. In fact, I kind of got the idea that she liked you a lot. She's been pushed around and she figures she ought to be paid for it. But there's nothing personal in it, see? Why, I'll bet if you were in the chips – you'd have to be, of course, with a babe like that – I'll bet she'd come a running to you like-"
"I've got to know," said Dusty. "I've got to know the truth, Mr. Trowbridge. Is she-"
"Yeah? And why don't you just make it Tug, kid?"
"I've got to know, Tug. Is she – you haven't already killed her?"
"Huh!" Tug exclaimed. "Why, of course, we ain't, and we ain't going to if there's another way out. We got her hid nice and comfortable, a lot more comfortable than you and me are right now."
"Could I – could I see her?"
"Sure you can," Tug said evenly. "If you think I'm lying, just say so and I'll take you to her."
Dusty hesitated. Then, the implications of Tug's statement hit him full force, and he shook his head firmly. He had to believe the gangster. At least, he couldn't appear to doubt him. For if Tug had ordered her death to keep her quiet, and if he was forced to admit the fact… well, he, Dusty, would also be quieted. Similarly. Permanently.
Tug would feel compelled to do it, and not merely to protect himself. The big man was desperate. He wanted something from Dusty and he intended to get it, and the woman was vital to his getting – a means of enforcing his demands. She had to be alive, then. He could not openly doubt that she was alive. To do so would be to make himself useless to Tug – a man with dangerous knowledge who refused to cooperate – and he would not live long.
Dusty thought it was that way, but he wasn't positive. He spoke cautiously, testing his theory:
"There's one thing I don't understand, Tug. You figure on jumping the country, anyway? Well, then, why not just let this woman go when you're ready to jump? Let her talk all she wants to. You won't be around to face the music."
"Well – Tug shifted in the seat- "I, uh, couldn't hardly do that, kid. An income-tax rap is one thing. Kidnaping and abetting a rape is somethin' else."
"But
"Ten thous – Of course not!"
"Neither do I. But that's what it's got to be, Dusty. That or the other. For ten grand she keeps quiet. She puts it down in black and white that none of us laid a finger on her, and she left the hotel of her own free will."
He paused, again studying the bellboy, smiling again secretly. He went on, frowning earnestly. "When I say I ain't got it, I mean it, kid. It's strictly under your hat, see, but I'm broke. I'm a hell of a lot worse than broke."
"But" – Dusty shook his head, incredulously- "but how-"
"I can still flash a roll? Drive a big car? Pay heavy rent? Yeah, I can do it – for a couple more weeks. I've been slipping for a long time, Dusty, and now I'm right down at the bottom of the sack. I'm broke. I've got a hell of a big income-tax rap hanging over me. I've been stalling it for years, and now I can't stall any longer. I either pay up or else." He sighed, flung the emptied bottle out the window. "Of course, it makes it easy for me in a way. The spot I'm in, this dame could yell her head off and she couldn't make it much worse."
"B-but-"
"Sure," Tug nodded. "There's you and the boys to think about. And of course I don't like to just sit still and wait for old Uncle Whiskers to sock it to me. If I can't do anything better, I'd like to get a big enough roll to skip the country."
He lapsed into another silence, his big good-natured face long with concern. His big face that looked good-natured turned toward the window. There was a small mirror there, attached to the windscreen. It gave him a full view of Dusty's tortured features.
He sighed heavily, shifted the sound into an absently amused laugh. "Y'know it's a funny thing, kid – about this Hillis woman, I mean. You might think she'd be sore as hell at you, but she don't seem to be at all. In fact, I kind of got the idea that she liked you a lot. She's been pushed around and she figures she ought to be paid for it. But there's nothing personal in it, see? Why, I'll bet if you were in the chips – you'd have to be, of course, with a babe like that – I'll bet she'd come a running to you like-"
"I've got to know," said Dusty. "I've got to know the truth, Mr. Trowbridge. Is she-"
"Yeah? And why don't you just make it Tug, kid?"
"I've got to know, Tug. Is she – you haven't already killed her?"
"Huh!" Tug exclaimed. "Why, of course, we ain't, and we ain't going to if there's another way out. We got her hid nice and comfortable, a lot more comfortable than you and me are right now."
"Could I – could I see her?"
"Sure you can," Tug said evenly. "If you think I'm lying, just say so and I'll take you to her."
Dusty hesitated. Then, the implications of Tug's statement hit him full force, and he shook his head firmly. He had to believe the gangster. At least, he couldn't appear to doubt him. For if Tug had ordered her death to keep her quiet, and if he was forced to admit the fact… well, he, Dusty, would also be quieted. Similarly. Permanently.
Tug would feel compelled to do it, and not merely to protect himself. The big man was desperate. He wanted something from Dusty and he intended to get it, and the woman was vital to his getting – a means of enforcing his demands. She had to be alive, then. He could not openly doubt that she was alive. To do so would be to make himself useless to Tug – a man with dangerous knowledge who refused to cooperate – and he would not live long.
Dusty thought it was that way, but he wasn't positive. He spoke cautiously, testing his theory:
"There's one thing I don't understand, Tug. You figure on jumping the country, anyway? Well, then, why not just let this woman go when you're ready to jump? Let her talk all she wants to. You won't be around to face the music."
"Well – Tug shifted in the seat- "I, uh, couldn't hardly do that, kid. An income-tax rap is one thing. Kidnaping and abetting a rape is somethin' else."
"But
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