“I don’t know. He knocked me down — and I got up — and he knocked me down again—”
“Who was it, Davis?”
“I’m not going—” He moaned.
“Sure it was Davis,” Fred put in. “He must have come while I was around the corner phoning you. I came back and watched the entrance, and pretty soon this guy walked up and pushed the button and went in. After a while I heard noises. The janitor came out from below and said he heard them too. He let me in, but he said he wasn’t looking for trouble and didn’t come up with me. Just as I got to the top of the second flight I got it. I caught a glimpse of him, but not quick enough. My head musta hit on the corner. When I come to I was wedged in there at the turn of the stairs, and he was gone. I came up and busted in the door and here was this guy on the floor.”
I looked around, saw the phone, went to it, and dialed a number. In a minute Wolfe’s voice answered.
“Archie,” I told him. “Is Cramer still there?”
“Yes.”
“Do I report?”
“Yes.”
“I’m talking from Dawson’s apartment. Prescott is here on the floor bruised up a little. Davis played tunes on him and knocked Fred downstairs and went out for a walk. Fred’s here.”