Gangsters -- New York (State) -- New York -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
Her appraisal of the room, however, was but cursory. She was interested
only in the flat-topped desk in front of her. She stepped quickly around
it--and stopped-and a low cry of dismay came from her as she stared at
the floor. The lower drawer had been completely removed, and now lay
upturned beside the swivel chair, its contents strewn around in all
directions.
And for a moment she stared at the scene, nonplused, discomfited. She
had been so sure that she would be first--and she had not been first.
There was no need to search amongst those papers on the floor. They told
their own story. The ones she wanted were already gone.
In a numbed way, mechanically, she retreated to the door; and, with the
flashlight playing upon it, she noticed for the first time that the
lock had been roughly forced. It was but corroborative of the despoiled
drawer; and, at the same time, the obvious reason why the door had not
been relocked when whoever had come here had gone out again.
Whoever had come here! She could have laughed out hysterically. Was
there any doubt as to who it was? One of Danglar's emissaries; the
Cricket, perhaps-or perhaps even Danglar himself! They had seen to it
that lack of prompt action, at least, would not be the cause of marring
their plans.
A little dazed, overwrought, confused at the ground being cut from under
her where she had been so confident of a sure footing, she made her way
out of the building, and to the street--and for a block walked almost
aimlessly along. And then suddenly she turned hurriedly into a cross
street, and headed over toward the East Side. The experience had
not been a pleasant one, and it had upset most thoroughly all her
calculations; but it was very far, after all, from being disastrous.
It meant simply that she must now find Nicky Viner himself and warn
the man, and there was ample time in which to do that. The code message
specifically stated midnight as the hour at which they proposed to favor
old Viner with their unhallowed attentions, and as it was but a little
after ten now, she had nearly a full two hours in which to accomplish
what should not take her more than a few minutes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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