Lying there half unconscious, his hands pinioned by McCarney, Reddy’s bulk on his chest and Reddy’s liquor-laden breath in his face, Joe did not at first understand the cause of the sudden noise and confusion below stairs.
All he knew was that his head hurt him unbearably and that in his heart was a rage that dulled even the pain in his head. Then gradually he realized that the situation was changed.
The sound of running feet, the sound of raised voices, some bullying, some fearful, became louder and louder until they penetrated even Joe’s fading consciousness. He was aware that McCarney had left off brandishing his fist in his face and that Reddy had suddenly removed his weight from off his chest.
He stopped not to argue about the cause of this good fortune but weakly and dizzily raised himself to his knees. When he had, by dint of all the will power he possessed plus a grip on the rickety table beside him, managed to raise himself to his feet, he found that Reddy and McCarney had miraculously disappeared.
He looked toward the window and found that it was open. He pressed his hand to his aching forehead impatiently and fought to be able to think clearly.
Then he caught a phrase from among the shouts and cries that filled the rooms beneath him, and that phrase roused him immediately to the need for action.
“Get the whisky, boys!” a husky voice ordered. “We’ve got the men—now what we need is evidence. We’ll wipe this joint off the map!”
“A raid! A prohibition-agents’ raid!” thought Joe, his brain now functioning quickly enough. That was the reason Reddy and McCarney had left him so suddenly just when they had him where they wanted him. Well, it was up to him to leave suddenly, too. If he were caught here!
Swift feet were running up the stairs. No possibility of escape in that direction. The back stairs? No, that was hopeless too. To reach the back stairs he must first enter the corridor, and to do that would be to invite disaster. The window! That was his only chance. In a moment more police would be entering the room. How could he explain?
He rushed to the window, taking a quick survey. He had but a minute to think. Eagerly he looked out, but only a blank brick wall met his anxious gaze. No window underneath this one, no shed to break his fall.