I walked over to the telephone. McCann jumped in front of me and stood with his back against the
instrument.
"Wait a minute, Doc. If I'm the kind of a rat that'll stick a knife in the heart of the man who hired me to
protect him-ain't it occurred to you the spot you're on ain't so healthy? What's to keep me an' Paul from
giving you the works an' making our getaway?"
Frankly, that had not occurred to me. Now I realized in what a truly dangerous position I was placed. I
looked at the chauffeur. He had risen from his knees and was standing, regarding McCann intently.
"I see you get it." McCann smiled, mirthlessly. He walked to the Italian. "Pass your rods, Paul."
Without a word the chauffeur dipped into his pockets and handed him a pair of automatics. McCann laid
them on my table. He reached under his left arm and placed another pistol beside them; reached into his