“Will you tell me what you are doing here?” She was getting her nerve back, and her voice was steady.
“For the love of Mike don’t start gettin’ tough,” he pleaded, “take a look at that hoodlum up there before you get that way.”
She looked frightened again. “Is there anyone else up there?”
Duffy laughed shortly. “I should say so,” he said, rubbing the back of his head gingerly, “he’s just tossed me out, so I should know.”
She took a step back hastily and looked up into the loft, then she shook her head. “There’s no one there.”
Duffy groaned. “The so-and-so’s pinched my camera,” he said wearily. “Do you mind if I get up? There’s a draught round here that ain’t doing me much good.”
“I think you had better stay where you are;” she said firmly. She held the gun steady as she reached for the telephone.
“Don’t do that,” Duffy said in alarm, “you ain’t calling the cops, are you?”
“Isn’t that what I ought to do?” she asked, her hand hesitating on the receiver.
“Listen, Mrs. Morgan, I can explain everything. It’s all a big mistake,” Duffy said; then he pondered and went on, “I’ve heard that crack before. My God, I must be losing my grip or somethin’.”