Experiment in Crime Read Online Free PDF Page B

anybody from the Maroon Gang, probably."

    "Then, listen," he said. "They don't know me. We've driven very slowly--and rather erratically--all the way. If they know you live at this address, they will probably drive by here. We will have had very little time to dispose of a large sum of money. For all they can be sure of, we may never have had the money. Our drive together may have had a--romantic--rather than a commercial--reason. If we were now to give that possibility some verisimilitude. . . ."

    In the dashboard light, her handsome eyes flickered a little. Her hands went to her hair and did something. It tumbled around her shoulders like suddenly sickled wheat. She wiped her lips on a small handkerchief and dropped it. "Might as well look as if we'd prepared for it," she said.

    Then she kissed him.

    It was necessary to get the right amount of lipstick--not too much, but enough--in the right places, she thought.

    Cars began moving on the Venetian Way, two blocks below. One slowed, and turned. It was the large, dark sedan. It picked up speed--evidently as their lights were observed.

    "You better have your arms around me," she said.

    "Do you always--kiss people that way?"

    The sedan crossed to the wrong side of the road, and stopped, bumper touching bumper. Five men got out, fast. They had handkerchiefs tied under their eyes. All of them held guns. One--the fattest-said, "Out, Miss Maxson, please. Out, whoever you are, if you please. Be quick!"

    The professor spoke indignantly. "Really, I haven't a dime. Well--a dime, perhaps.
    Some change. My bills--frittered away at the club. The young lady--"

    "Out!" said the fat man.

    Professor Burke got out. He was swiftly searched.

    "You will stand between our car and the wall. If a car comes on this street, kneel.
    If you yell--zut!"

    The accent was French. But what kind of French? Belgian? The Professor waited for more words, as he and the girl moved between the wall and the big, black car.

    "Now, Miss Maxson. Where is the money?"

    "What money?"

    The fat man with the accent slapped her face.

    Professor Burke had never before seen such a thing. He walked up to the Frenchman. "See here, my good man. More brutality of that sort and I shall either compel you to shoot me or make mincemeat of you. Violence is intolerable. Violence to a: lady is beyond countenancing."

    There was a long silence. Finally the, fat leader said, "Just who are you?"

    "Professor Burke, the socio-psychologist."

    There was more thought. "Who is La Cavour, then?"

    The "ou" sound was Germanic. Alsatian, the Professor suddenly felt sure.
    "Phillippe La Cavour is a second-rate French criminal psychologist, born in Lyon, and guilty of some atrociously superficial hypothesizing--"

    "What, precisely, are you doing here?"

    "Isn't it rather painfully obvious?"

    The fat man turned. "Miss Maxson, you were the only one in Double-O's club not on the list to be taken to Headquarters. I assumed you would have the club's valuables."

    "You assumed a lot."

    The masked face turned farther. "The car--boys! Upholstery and all. A couple of you make sure they didn't toss it over the wall."

    Time passed.

    Professor Burke tried to back up far enough to see the license number. A wobble of the gun and a soft, "Ah, no!" stopped him. He looked the car over, trying to fix the details in his mind. He was not very good at the years of cars. The wheels showed traces of a white mark which makes sticky ruts on certain minor roads in South Florida. Some vegetation was caught in one of the door hinges. By leaning against the car and clinging to that hinge, he was able to remove a sample of the vegetation. Hedge or driveway shrubbery, he thought. He shifted his position and put it in his pocket.

    The sound of upholstery being rent by a knife came from the coupe. Rustlings were heard as two of the men inspected the ground under the shrubbery behind the wall.
    A car approached. They knelt. The men ripping up the coupe put out