“Hey!” I said in alarm, “get this off, will you?”
“But I can’t,” Myra wailed. “You stupid dope! What am I going to do now?”
I wrestled with the thing silently. After a while, I gave up. “Don’t let’s get into a panic,” I said. “If this chain thinks it can hold me… why it’s crazy!” I put my feet against the wall and holding the chain in both bands, I threw my weight backwards. It ought to have wrenched the staple that held the chain out of the wall. But it didn’t. But it did nearly give me a hemorrhage. I sat on the floor and mopped my brow.
“You’re right, sugar,” I said in disgust. “I’m a sap and a dope!”
“They’ll kill you if they find you here,” Myra said anxiously. “Don’t talk that way,” I said hastily. “Someone might hear you and get ideas. Now listen, you’re in a jam and I’m in a jam, but it’s a lot worse for you than for me.”
“What do you mean?”
So I told her in a few words about Doc Ansell and the cops and how they were looking for her.
“So you see,” I said, “you’ve got to hide some place. Don’t wait for me. Get going. Take Whisky with you and tell him where you’re going. He’ll tell me later.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” she said, “I’ll get a file or something and break that chain.”
“You’re wasting time. Find me a rat to talk to and I’ll pretend I’m in jail. Go on. They won’t do anything to me.”