"That cupboard behind you," he said. "The back of it's a sliding door. You'll find some stairs. Go right down. There's a tunnel under the block and the street, and it comes up in the cellar of a house on the other side."
"But you've got to hold Templar up."
Donnell struck his chest with a huge fist.
"Me? I'll hold the Saint up. I don't run away from anyone — but you can clear out when you want to. You'd be more trouble than use, anyway."
Weald swallowed the taunt without a protest.
"All right. As soon as the girl comes back you get out and say you're going to warn your gang. I'll look after the rest."
Donnell sat down heavily on a truckle bed in one corner. He took a massive revolver from his pocket, spilled the cartridges into his hand, and squinted up the barrel. He spun the cylinder with his fingers, tested the hammer action to his satisfaction, and reloaded the gun methodically.
"What's the idea?" he asked laconically. "You sweet on her?"
Weald nodded, with the bottle in his hand.
"That's not the half of it. I've been wanting her for months. I thought I'd do it gradually, working with her and making her like me. But there isn't time for any more fooling about. If the police are going to get me I'm going to get her first. I don't care if it's the last thing I do. Donnell — on the train — she was sneering at me!"