"Stout, Rex - The Rope Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stout Rex)

"That's all right." Rick took the cup, brim- full, in his fingers. "Here's looking at you."

And, following the other's example, he swallowed it with one draught.

About three hours later, a Iittle after three o'clock in the morning, the lieutenant at the desk of the
Murray Hill Police Station was conducting an investigation. The chief witness was a taxicab
chauffeur, whose face was flushed with indignation at the iniquity of a wicked world, and whose
tone was filled with injured protest.

"I was in front of the Century," said the chauffeur to the police lieutenant, "when two guys took
me. One of 'em, a short, red- faced guy, told me to hit it up for Shoney's cabaret. I got 'em there as
quick as I could, of course bein' careful, but when I pulled up in front of Shoney's the red-faced
guy leaned out of the window and said they'd changed their minds and guessed they'd drive
around a little. 'Maybe an hour,' he said, and told me to go up the Avenue to the Park. So I beat it
for the Park.

THE ROPE DANCE

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6

"I drove around till I got dizzy, nearly two hours, and it seemed funny I wasn't hearing sounds of
voices inside. They had the front curtains pulled down. Finally I slowed down and took a peep
around the corner through the side window. I couldn't see no one. I stopped and jumped down
and opened the door. The red-faced guy was gone and the other guy was sprawled out half on the
seat and half on the floor. I yelled at him and shook him around, but he was dead to the world. So
I brought him--"

"All right, that'll do," the lieutenant interrupted. "You've got a license, I suppose?"

"Sure I have. I've been three years with the M. B. Company--"

"And you don't know when the red- faced man left the cab?"

"No. Unless it was at Sixth Avenue and Forty- second Street. They was a jam there and we was
held up a long time. He might of ducked then--"

"All right." The lieutenant turned to a policeman. "See if that man is able to talk yet."

As the policeman turned to obey, a door leading into an inner room opened and Rick Duggett,
champion roper of Eastern Arizona, appeared on the threshold. His face was pale and his eyes
were swollen and dull, like those of a man roused from a long sleep; his necktie was on one side
and his hair was rumpled into a tangled mass.

"Here he is now," said the policeman.

"Oh, so you've come to." The lieutenant looked the newcomer over. "What's the matter with
you? What kind of a game is this?"