“No chance at this hour. Jazz is all you’ll get.”
Johnny disrobed to the tune of “Deep Night” which seemed appropriate to the hour.
When he had crept beneath the blankets, his strange host threw off the house lights, leaving only one dull golden eye, the radio’s tiny dial lamp, gleaming.
Johnny was truly weary. The day had been long and full of the inevitable excitement of arriving. His last impression as his eyes closed and his senses drifted away was that of a great golden eye glaring at him from the dark.
Then, with a suddenness that set his blood racing, he was sitting up in bed wide-awake.
Loud, jangling, setting his ears roaring, a gong had sounded.
“Bam! Bam! Bam!” It seemed in this very room.
“Wha—what was that?” he stammered as the sound died away.
As if in answer to his query, a voice came from the radio:
“Squads attention! Squads 21 and 24 go to Jackson and Ashland at once; a drug store. Robbers breaking in there.”