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Page 37
For the last time in all your wicked life, black murder filled
your heart, Wolf, but the Weasel has escaped you. The Wolf put
the sheet back over the dead face of the Weasel and grating his
teeth, stepped softly to the door. He slipped into the hall, but
as he did so, he heard low voices, and instead of turning toward
his own room, he went in the opposite direction where he saw a
stairway. Unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of
down. Slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he
thought he heard a low exclamation from below. For some
unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the Wolf's
room to see how he was getting on. The room of course was empty,
and the Wolf knew a search would begin at once. How he cursed
his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe!
It would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments.
And escape he must. The Weasel was dead. He had killed him, and
no one knew better than the Wolf that he would be made to pay the
whole penalty. Adolph was dead, the Weasel was dead, Ledermann
had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned.
And here was he, the Wolf, trapped-at bay. He slipped into the
first door at hand. It was a large hall used for a gymnasium for
the nurses. There were steps at the door. He looked about.
There was not a place to hide. Hurrying to the window as fast as
his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked
out. There, outside the window, was a fire-escape. Without an
instant's hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered
foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder. His head was
swimming from weakness. He heard an exclamation from above and
looked up.
For an instant he made out the faces of the nurse and doctor
against the sky above him. Then the nurse disappeared, and the
doctor stepped out on the sill. He was going to follow; the nurse
had gone for help. There was one thing to do: hurry--hurry!
Once more the Wolf looked up at his pursuer. He laughed his own
sneering, cruel laugh. The ladder seemed to swing and sway
dizzily. It was like being at the top of a tall mast in a heavy
sea. He clutched the ladder. Then everything grew dark, guns
boomed in his ears, his grasp loosened and the last long night
and the last long silence wrapped him like a cloak.
The Weasel had bitten to the bone.
Crushed and mangled, they lifted the Wolf from the pavement five
stories below, and taking him into the hospital once more for a
little while, laid him in the chamber of death beside the
stretcher where the Weasel rested with that new look in his face.
But the nurse who had cared for the Weasel knew the manner of his
going, and rolled his stretcher away across the room. She would
not let him lie even in death beside the other.
The very next afternoon the telephone rang.
Mrs. Potter and Beany and Asa listened, while Porky said, "Yes,
sir," a dozen times and "All right, sir," until Beany twitched
with nervous excitement.
When he put up the receiver, everybody said, "Well?" at the same
time.
Porky went over and kissed his mother. It was real easy to do,
those days. A fellow wanted to kiss his mother.
"Well?" said everybody again.
Timmins hovered in the doorway.
"To-morrow," said Porky with a sort of solemnity.
No one spoke. Then "What time?" said Beany.
"Six o'clock, morning," answered Porky.
"You know, mom, there's no chance of our getting hurt," said
Beany.
"How you do talk!" said Mrs. Potter. She did not look up,
however. She was finishing the second sweater, and gave it her
whole attention.
"Naw!" said Porky. "Not a chance in the world! We will be home
before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you.
Perhaps we will bring you some loot. Wouldn't you like something
to remember the War by?"
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