Instantly the official spirit asserted itself. “Clear out of here, all of you!” shouted one of the policemen to the indignant crowd. The other came up a step or two and took my arm. “Easy now, sir, and what’s your address, did you say?”
I told him my address very quietly, and we passed on and out of the house, through a crowd that looked to me as big as Times Square on election night. At the corner the crowd was still following us, in spite of the efforts of the other policeman to disperse it. But the car I had hired was still waiting. I signaled to the driver and he opened the door for us. “Drive us round a bit,” I told him, “and then take me home. I want to lose this crowd.” Then I and the two stalwart but puzzled cops entered the car and drove off amid a small cheer. I never have understood why a man who is fool enough to get himself hurt deserves a cheer in the minds of the casual crowd.
I had a relapse as soon as we got into the car, and by the time we drew up at my apartment and they had practically carried me in, I had about convinced them that I was too sick to be questioned for the present.
Larry met us at the door in answer to my ring. He gave a shout of rage at the sight of my face. But he picked me up, the whole six-foot odd of me, and carried me into my room as gently as a mother carries a child. Poor Larry, I hated to fool him like that, but the cops had to be fooled too.
I lay back on the bed and spoke in a feeble voice. “Larry, fetch a doctor, will you? Or wait, you’d better tie this up yourself.” Then I turned to one of the policemen. “Officer, I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. Three men I have never seen before signaled to me as I was passing in my car and asked me to help them. They had a car pulled up in front of that house and were standing beside it. They told me that two people had been overcome with gas and they needed help to carry them out. I never thought that it might be a trap. Then when I got upstairs they tried to rob me, and when I resisted, one of them shot me. That’s all I know. I—I——” and as a conclusion to my speech, I fell back in as good an imitation of a faint as I could contrive.
Larry leaned over me at once, and as he did so I whispered, “Get rid of them.”
Then he straightened up again. “By God, they’ve pretty nigh done for him, the blackguyards!” he cried. “ ’Tis a docther he needs, and he’ll talk no more to-night, gentlemen. It might kill him.”
From under lowered lids I could see the two cops glance at each other. I stirred a little. “Larry,” I called faintly, “thank the officers in a fitting manner for bringing me home and—and—beg them to come back in the morning. I’ll tell them—the details—then.” I closed my eyes again.
Larry turned on the two cops. “Why ain’t ye catchin’ the fellas that done this thing?” he demanded. “He’s told ye all he knows an’ he’s a dyin’ man this minut. I’ve to dress his head before he dies on me hands.” Then he reached into his pocket, brought out some bills, from which he selected two and presented one to each of the cops. “There now, come back in an hour if ye like. Maybe he can talk then,” and Larry darted out of the room.
The two stood irresolute for a moment. One of them took out a notebook and wrote in it. And after a glance at each other they went out. I heard one of them talking to Larry for a moment and then the outside door closed on them. A moment later Larry came back with a basin of hot water and some cloths.