guns!’
‘Let me go!’ the girl gasped. ‘Get out!’
‘Yeah?’ Toni said. ‘I go in a lit le while.’
Baird stood motionless, sweat running down his face, listening to the struggle going on in the darkness. He heard the girl catch her breath sharply. He slid the barrel of the gun into his hand, and took a step forward, but away from the support of the wall, his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he slithered down on hands and knees.
As he struggled to get back on his feet, Toni gave a sudden yell of pain.
‘You bitch!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve blinded me!’
‘Get out!’ the girl said, her voice low. ‘Let me go!’
The bed creaked; feet struck the floor.
‘I fix you for this!’ Toni snarled. He pul ed open the door.
In the light from the passage Baird saw blood running down Toni’s face. Four deep scratches, just missing his eyes, were like deep red ruts in his face.
The girl crouched on the bed. She was naked to the waist. Some of Toni’s blood was smeared on her shoulder. Her eyes smouldered as she glared at Toni.
‘Get out and stay out!’ she said, stil keeping her voice low.
Toni snarled at her, his hand to his face. He went out and slammed the door.
‘You all right?’ Baird asked hoarsely, crawling over to the bed.
He heard the girl slide off the bed on the opposite side.
‘I’m all right,’ she said curtly. ‘Are you bleeding again?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Baird pul ed himself up on to the bed and lay flat, his breath coming in long, painful gasps. ‘You didn’t have to do that for me.’
The girl didn’t say anything. He could hear her groping in the darkness. After a delay, the light went on.
She was fastening a shabby coat about her, and she looked sharply at him. They stared at each other for several seconds.
‘I’ll look at your wound,’ she said, coming over to him. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘A lit le,’ he said, watching her. ‘I don’t think it’s bleeding.’
She bent over him. Together they inspected the pad on his side. There was no sign of blood.
‘No. It’s al right,’ she said, and as she straightened he caught hold of her wrist. She remained bending over him, looking down at him.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked. ‘They could put you in jail for this.’
She pulled free.
‘I don’t like coppers,’ she said, her face hard. ‘They won’t get you now.’
‘I guess I owe you something,’ Baird said uneasily. ‘If it hadn’t been for you I’d be dead now.’
She smiled cynically.
‘I dare say you’d have been bet er off,’ she said, turning away. ‘And you don’t owe me anything.’
‘What’s your name?’ he said, wiping his damp face with the back of his hand.
‘Anita Jackson,’ she said. ‘You’d bet er try and get some sleep.’
‘I’m Verne Baird,’ he told her. ‘Those punks think I kil ed a copper.’
She looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
‘You’d bet er get some sleep,’ she said after a long pause.
‘You’re a knock-out,’ he said, shut ing his eyes. ‘What did the cops do to you to make you hate them like this?’
‘That’s not your business,’ she returned curtly.
‘I guess that’s right. Give me an hour, and I’ll get out.’ He touched his side and winced. ‘I owe you something.’
‘You’l have to stay here until you’re better,’ she said, sit ing in the armchair. ‘You won’t get far with that wound.’
‘What about you?’ he said, opening his eyes and staring at her. ‘The longer I’m here the bigger risk you’re running. Suppose that fat guy comes back?’
She shook her head.
‘He won’t. I know Toni. He won’t come here again. I’m out al day. It’s only the nights. I don’t care.’
‘You’ve got to have the bed,’ Baird said, a lit le surprised he was thinking more of her than himself.
‘I’l lie on the floor.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ she said crossly. ‘Go to sleep and don’t talk so much.’ She pul ed another chair forward and
‘Let me go!’ the girl gasped. ‘Get out!’
‘Yeah?’ Toni said. ‘I go in a lit le while.’
Baird stood motionless, sweat running down his face, listening to the struggle going on in the darkness. He heard the girl catch her breath sharply. He slid the barrel of the gun into his hand, and took a step forward, but away from the support of the wall, his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he slithered down on hands and knees.
As he struggled to get back on his feet, Toni gave a sudden yell of pain.
‘You bitch!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve blinded me!’
‘Get out!’ the girl said, her voice low. ‘Let me go!’
The bed creaked; feet struck the floor.
‘I fix you for this!’ Toni snarled. He pul ed open the door.
In the light from the passage Baird saw blood running down Toni’s face. Four deep scratches, just missing his eyes, were like deep red ruts in his face.
The girl crouched on the bed. She was naked to the waist. Some of Toni’s blood was smeared on her shoulder. Her eyes smouldered as she glared at Toni.
‘Get out and stay out!’ she said, stil keeping her voice low.
Toni snarled at her, his hand to his face. He went out and slammed the door.
‘You all right?’ Baird asked hoarsely, crawling over to the bed.
He heard the girl slide off the bed on the opposite side.
‘I’m all right,’ she said curtly. ‘Are you bleeding again?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Baird pul ed himself up on to the bed and lay flat, his breath coming in long, painful gasps. ‘You didn’t have to do that for me.’
The girl didn’t say anything. He could hear her groping in the darkness. After a delay, the light went on.
She was fastening a shabby coat about her, and she looked sharply at him. They stared at each other for several seconds.
‘I’ll look at your wound,’ she said, coming over to him. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘A lit le,’ he said, watching her. ‘I don’t think it’s bleeding.’
She bent over him. Together they inspected the pad on his side. There was no sign of blood.
‘No. It’s al right,’ she said, and as she straightened he caught hold of her wrist. She remained bending over him, looking down at him.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked. ‘They could put you in jail for this.’
She pulled free.
‘I don’t like coppers,’ she said, her face hard. ‘They won’t get you now.’
‘I guess I owe you something,’ Baird said uneasily. ‘If it hadn’t been for you I’d be dead now.’
She smiled cynically.
‘I dare say you’d have been bet er off,’ she said, turning away. ‘And you don’t owe me anything.’
‘What’s your name?’ he said, wiping his damp face with the back of his hand.
‘Anita Jackson,’ she said. ‘You’d bet er try and get some sleep.’
‘I’m Verne Baird,’ he told her. ‘Those punks think I kil ed a copper.’
She looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
‘You’d bet er get some sleep,’ she said after a long pause.
‘You’re a knock-out,’ he said, shut ing his eyes. ‘What did the cops do to you to make you hate them like this?’
‘That’s not your business,’ she returned curtly.
‘I guess that’s right. Give me an hour, and I’ll get out.’ He touched his side and winced. ‘I owe you something.’
‘You’l have to stay here until you’re better,’ she said, sit ing in the armchair. ‘You won’t get far with that wound.’
‘What about you?’ he said, opening his eyes and staring at her. ‘The longer I’m here the bigger risk you’re running. Suppose that fat guy comes back?’
She shook her head.
‘He won’t. I know Toni. He won’t come here again. I’m out al day. It’s only the nights. I don’t care.’
‘You’ve got to have the bed,’ Baird said, a lit le surprised he was thinking more of her than himself.
‘I’l lie on the floor.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ she said crossly. ‘Go to sleep and don’t talk so much.’ She pul ed another chair forward and
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