No Business of Mine

“Peter French. If we quit, he’s going to get away with it.”

She gripped my ann. “Then let him get away with it. We can’t do anything to him without getting ourselves in a mess. Don’t start anything like that, Steve. It’ll only come back to us.”

I nodded. “I guess you’re right, only I hate to think a rat like French...”

Her grip on my arm tightened, her eyes opened wide. “Listen,” she whispered.

“What is...?” I began, but her hand flew to my mouth.

“Someone’s in the flat,” she breathed. “Listen!”

That gave me a hell of a jar. I froze, looked towards the door.

She was right. Very faintly from downstairs I heard footsteps.

With my heart leaping like a salmon caught on a line, I stepped to the electric light switch, snapped out the light.

“Wait here,” I whispered. “Don’t make a sound. Watch your opportunity. Get out if you can, but don’t leave that bag here. Do you think you can carry it?”

I could feel her body trembling against mine.

“I’ll try,” she said. “Oh, God! I’m scared. Who is it, do you think?”

“I’m going to find out,” I whispered back. “But don’t wait for me.”

I crept over to the back window, looked down on a sloping roof, into a yard.

“That’s your way out,” I said, my lips close to her ear. “Give me a couple of minutes, then get on to the roof, slide down, and into the yard. Go to Madge’s place. I’ll get in touch with you in a day or so.”

Her fingers touched my hand.

“Darling Steve,” she said.

“Bolt the door after me, kid,” I returned, pressed her hand, peered into the passage. I listened, heard nothing, stepped from the room, shut the door.

I heard Netta slide the bolt. I crossed the passage, entered the sitting-room, groped my way across to the lamp. I found it after a moment’s fumbling, removed the bulb, put it carefully on the floor. I remembered finger-prints, took out my handkerchief, picked up the bulb, wiped it, laid it down again.

I moved back to the door, stood listening, sweat on my face, my heart pounding.

For some seconds I heard nothing, then a faint creak came to my straining ears, followed by another creak. Someone was coming up the stairs.

I stood against the wall on the far side of the door, waited. I heard a door handle turn and knew the intruder had reached the top of the stairs, was trying Netta’s door. I hoped she had the nerve not to scream. I felt like screaming myself.

More silence. You could cut the stillness in the flat with a knife.

Then suddenly I felt rather than saw the door behind which I was standing, opening. My mouth went dry, the hair on the back of my neck moved. Inch by inch the door opened, then stopped. I saw a white shape, a hand, groping down the wall for the electric light switch, find it.

The click the switch made as it was snapped down was like a pistol shot in the silent room. The room stayed dark, and I thanked my stars I had thought of removing the bulb. I flexed my muscles, clenched my fists, waited.

There was a long pause, the door didn’t open farther; there was no sound except my own thumping heart. I waited, my nerves stretched, my breathing controlled. To my straining ears came a new sound; someone breathing. I wondered if whoever it was could hear my breathing, and if that was what made him hesitate.

The door began to open again. I crouched against the wall, ready to spring.

A dark shadow appeared around the door: the head and shoulders of a man. I could just make out his blurred outline against the blind. I knew I was invisible in the darkness, waited to see what he’d do.

He peered around the room, took another step forward. Then I heard a new sound, a sharp creak from Netta’s window, as she pushed it up.

Instantly the man whipped around, dashed across the passage, tried Netta’s door again.

“I hear you,” he shouted. “Open up! Come on! Open up.”

It was Corridan!

For a moment I was in such a panic I couldn’t move. Then I heard Corridan throw his weight against Netta’s door, heard the door groan. I didn’t dare hesitate a moment longer. I kicked over a chair which fell against a small table. The racket the two things made as they went over sounded to me like a mine going up.

I heard a startled exclamation from Corridan. A moment later he entered the sitting-room. I saw him grope in his hip pocket, and I crept towards him, crouching, prayed he wouldn’t hear me.

A second after the bright beam from an electric torch he had taken from his pocket fell on Littlejohns.

I heard Corridan catch his breath. In that hard light Littlejohns was enough to shake the toughest nerve. For a moment Corridan seemed paralysed with surprise and shock. In that moment, I jumped him.

We went down together like a couple of buffalo, smashed the small table to matchwood. I slammed my fist in his face, caught the torch from his hand, flung it with all my strength at the wall. It went out.

Corridan twisted under me, hit me a sledge-hammer blow in the chest. I grabbed him, tried to hold him down, but he was much too strong for me.