Part 76 (1/2)

On his demand that the late caller declare himself, a voice whispered, ”It's me, Guerilla Melody. Let me in quick.”

”What do you want to see me about?”

”I got a bargain to make with you--a bargain about Bill Wingo.”

”Did Bill Wingo send you?”

”You can take it that he did.”

After all, why not? What danger was there in listening to the details of Guerilla's bargain? Perhaps he would learn something. Quite so.

The district attorney unlocked the kitchen door and opened it.

A tall man pushed in at once. The tall man had a sardonic gleam in his gray eyes, a ragged brown beard, and a derringer. The twin-barreled firearm was pointing directly at the stomach of the district attorney.

The district attorney's gun arm hung up and down. The tall, brown-bearded man shot out a quick left hand and deftly twitched away the district attorney's weapon.

”You won't need that,” he remarked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, tucking the six-shooter into his waistband. ”Have you any other weapon on your person? Hold still while I look. No, I guess you haven't. We will now go into your office, Arthur. I have a li'l something for your private ear. I guess I'll lock the kitchen door, so we won't run any risk of being disturbed.”

So saying he reached behind him, slammed the door shut, shook it, and turned the key in the lock. The key he dropped into a trouser's pocket.

”What are you waiting for?” he demanded, still in that hoa.r.s.e whisper.

The district attorney found his tongue--and stood his ground. ”Where's Guerilla?”

”I don't know. He left when you decided to let him in. You see, I thought you'd be more likely to open up if it was some one you knew, so I got Guerilla to do the honors. Just a li'l trick, Arthur, just a li'l trick. You're such a shy bird. No hard feelings, I hope. No?

Yes? Well?”

”Whonell are you?”

”Me? Oh, I'm the Fool-Killer. Let us walk into your office says the fly to the spider, you being the spider, of course. And if the fly has to say it again, the spider will have something to think about besides the pitfalls of this wicked world. Thank you. I thought you would.

And bear in mind that any wild s.n.a.t.c.hes toward table drawers and so forth will be treated as hostile acts.”

The district attorney continued to lead the way into the office. He started to sit down in his accustomed chair behind the table.

”Not there--there,” said the brown-bearded man, indicating a chair on the other side of the table. ”I'd rather sit on the drawer side myself. Not that I expect you to gamble with me, Arthur. But in my business we can't afford to take chances. Are you ready. Gentlemen, be seated.”

He uttered the last three words in his natural voice. The district attorney failed to suppress a bleak smile.

”There's my old Arthur,” approved Billy Wingo. ”I knew he'd be glad to see me, give him time.”

”Yes, indeed,” declared the district attorney in a loud voice. ”I'm always glad to see Bill Wingo. Bill Wingo, you bet.”

Billy Wingo's gray eyes narrowed. ”Not quite so loud,” he reproved the district attorney. ”No need to disturb the neighbors.”

”Why, no, of course not.” The grimy soul of the district attorney capered with joy. What luck! Here was his enemy, and there was his enemy's enemy in the very next room. It would make a cat laugh. It would indeed.

”Arthur,” said Billy, ”I've been hearing bad reports of you. I understand you've decided to have Miss Walton arrested. Is that correct?”

”Correct, sure. Sorry, but the law's the law, you know.”