Gorman said, “Don’t get excited, Dominic.”
The hoarse, scratchy voice had an effect on Parker. He sat down again and frowned at his fingernails. There was a pause. I lifted my glass, waved it at Gorman and drank. The Scotch was as good as the diamond.
“Is he going to do it?” Parker asked suddenly without looking up.
“Tomorrow night,” Gorman said. “Explain it to him. I’m going to bed.” He included me in the conversation by pointing a finger the size of a banana at me. “Mr. Parker will tell you all you want to know. Good night, Mr. Jackson.”
I said good-night.
At the door, he turned to look at me again.
“Please cooperate with Mr. Parker. He has my complete confidence. He understands what has to be done and what he tells you is an order from me.”
“Sure,” I said.
We listened to Gorman’s heavy tread as he climbed the stairs. The room seemed empty without him.
“Go ahead,” I said, dropping into one of the lounging chairs. “You have my complete confidence, too.”
“We won’t have any funny stuff, Jackson.” Parker was sitting up very stiff in his chair. His fists were clenched. “You’re being paid for this job and paid well. I don’t want any impertinence from you. Understand?”
“So far I’ve only received two hundred dollars,” I said, smiling at him. “If you don’t like me the way I am, send me home. The retainer will cover the time I’ve wasted coming out here. Suit yourself.”
A tap on the door saved his dignity. He said to come in, in his cold, spiteful voice, and thrust his clenched fists into his trouser pockets.
The chauffeur came in, carrying a tray. He had changed into a white drill jacket that was a shade too large for him. On the tray was a pile of sandwiches, cut thick.
I recognized him now that he wasn’t wearing the cap. I’d seen him working at the harbor. He was a dark, sad-looking little man with a hooked nose and sad, moist eyes. I wondered what he was doing here. I remembered seeing him painting a boat along the waterfront a few days ago. He must be as new to this job as I was. As he came in, he gave a quick look and a puzzled expression jumped into his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Parker snapped, pointing to the tray.
“Mr. Gorman ordered sandwiches, sir.”
Parker stood up, took the plate and stared at the sandwiches. He lifted one with a finicky finger and thumb, frowned at it in shocked disgust.
“Who do you think can eat stuff like this?” he demanded angrily. “Can’t you get into your gutter mind sandwiches should be cut thin—thin as paper, you stupid oaf. Cut some more!” With a quick flick of his wrist he shot the contents of the plate into the little guy’s face. Bread and chicken dripped over him, a piece of chicken lodged in his hair. He stood very still and went white.
Parker stalked to the French windows, wrenched back the curtains and stared out into the night. He kept his back turned until the chauffeur had cleared up the mess.
I said, “We don’t want anything to eat, bud. You needn’t come back.”
The chauffeur went out without looking at me. His back was stiff with rage.
Parker said over his shoulder, “I’ll trouble you not to give orders to my servants.”
“If you’re going to act like an hysterical old woman I’m going to bed. If you have anything to tell me, let’s have it. Only make up your mind.”
He came away from the French windows. Rage made him look old and ugly.
“I warned Gorman you’d be difficult,” he said, trying to control his voice. “I told him to leave you alone. A cheap crook like you is no use to anyone.”
I grinned at him.
“I’ve been hired to do a job and I’m going to do it. But I’m doing it my way, and I’m not taking a lot of bull from you. That goes for Fatso, too. If you want this job done, say so and get on with it.”
He struggled with his temper and then, to my surprise, calmed down.
“All right, Jackson,” he said mildly. “There’s no sense in quarrelling.”
I watched him walk stiff-legged to the sideboard, jerk open a drawer and take out a long roll of blue paper. He tossed it on the table.
“That’s the plan of Brett’s house. Look at it.”
I helped myself to another drink and one of his fat cigarettes I found in a box on the sideboard. Then I unrolled the paper and studied the plan. It was an architect’s blueprint. Parker leaned over the table and pointed out the way in, and where the safe was located.
“Two guards patrol the house,” he said. “They’re ex-policemen and quick on the trigger. There’s an elaborate system of burglar alarms, but they are only fixed to the windows and safe. I’ve arranged for you to enter by the back door. That’s it, here.” His long finger pointed on the plan. “You follow this passage, go up the stairs, along here to Brett’s study. The safe’s here, where I’ve marked it in red.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” I said sharply. “Gorman didn’t say anything about guards and alarms. How is it the Rux dame didn’t touch off the alarm?”
He was expecting that one, for he answered without hesitation. “When Brett returned the dagger to the safe he forgot to reset it.”
“Think it’s still unset?”
“It’s possible, but you mustn’t rely on it.”
“And the guards? How did she miss them?”
“They were in another wing of the house at the time.”
I wasn’t too happy about this. Ex-policemen guards can be tough.
“I have a key that’ll fit the back door,” he said casually. “You needn’t worry about that.”
“You have? You work fast, don’t you?”
He didn’t say anything to that.
I wandered over to the fireplace, leaned against the mantel.
“What happens if I’m caught?”
“We wouldn’t have chosen you for the job if we thought you’d be caught,” he said, and smiled through his teeth.
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
He lifted his elegant shoulders. “You must tell the truth.”
“You mean about this babe walking in her sleep?”
“Certainly.”
“Persuading Redfern to believe a yarn like that should be fun.”
“If you are careful it won’t come to that.”
“I hope it doesn’t.” I finished my drink, rolled up the blueprint. “I’ll study this in bed. Anything else?”
“Do you carry a gun?”
“Sometimes.”
“You better not carry it tomorrow night.”
We studied each other.
“I won’t.”
“Then that’s all. We’ll go out tomorrow morning and look Brett’s place over. The lay of the land is important.”
“It strikes me it’d be easier to let that stripper do it in her sleep. According to Fatso, if she has anything on her mind she sleepwalks at the drop of a hat. I could give her something for her mind.”
“You’re