Only seven were hanged
"Yes, you old Yid, a bargain. Listen. If you get me away safely and
promise to send me the remainder of the money quickly--say within two
days--I'll see that the police don't get to know all I might tell
them about you."
Bern shrugged his shoulders.
"I gave up being a receiver after the last deal, Lorry. It was too
risky. I gave it up."
"That doesn't matter much. There is a lot the cops would like to
know--a lot that happened before the last deal. You are thinking
that you can drive a better bargain because you have given up being a
receiver?"
"No, no. I'm just telling you."
"It doesn't matter, Bern. Listen here. You are a tailor, or
something like one. These clothes you have given me are not a good
fit. They'd give me away anywhere. Maybe you know that. You'll do
the necessary alterations, Bern. That's how you'll spend your
Christmas. How many people are in this house?"
"My wife. Just my wife and a maid."
"Send the maid away for the day."
"But, Lorry, she wasn't to get this holiday. She doesn't keep
Christmas----"
"Send her away. She can keep this Christmas for once even if she
isn't a Christian."
And, seeing the look of resentment on Bern's face, he jumped to his
feet and lifted the bludgeon, his face convulsed with passion.
"You'll do as I say, Bern, or I'll kill you too!"
Bern shrank from him.
"I'll do anything, Lorry Black! I'll do anything you like! Anything
at all!"
It was done. Bern left the room and came back in a short time with
the information that the maid was being sent off and that his wife
would be down soon. Then the two sat gazing at the fire, each
thinking his own thoughts.
The maid had gone when the man who had thus forced himself on the
household spoke finally.
"I want a sleep while you do the alterations to this suit, Bern.
Better take my measure right away. You can give me a spare bedroom,
can't you? I'm tired."
He was taken upstairs and shown into a bedroom, and when he was half
undressed he turned to Bern.
"You'll do the alterations in this room, Bern. I sleep lightly and
I'll have my cudgel under my pillow."
He turned into bed and lay stretching himself with an expression of
satisfaction.
Bern did as he was bid. He lit the gas fire and brought his
materials into the room, and while the other looked on he started to
the work of altering the suit. The morning was well spent when he
had it finished.
"What more do you want, Lorry?" he asked, grudgingly.
"Nothing just now. You can go and let me sleep. Wake me at supper.
I'll want a good meal before I go."
Bern went out of the room and the caller locked the door after him.
Five minutes later he was sleeping peacefully.
But he did not wait for Bern to awake him. The dullness of night was
descending when he arose and dressed. The suit now fitted him well
enough to appear his own clothing. He had a bath and dressed
carefully; then he went downstairs and walked into the parlor.
Bern was sitting near the fire, alone. He had a pair of earphones on
and was listening to the broadcast program of the day; but he laid
down the earphones as soon as he saw his unwelcome visitor.
"The wife is making a meal for you, Lorry. We heard you in the
bathroom. Will you be going as soon as it is dark?"
"Just as soon as it is dark, Bern, and as soon as you hand over that
money."
"Here it is--all I have in the house."
He handed over a package which the other examined, counting the notes
leisurely and with keen interest. He put the package into his
pocket. Bern watched him and gave a nod as the other smiled.
"Fetch the grub, Bern."
The Jew brought a loaded tray from the kitchen; he was afraid of this
man and he was trembling as he placed the tray on the table.
"The wife made a good meal for you, Lorry. There's a bit of turkey,
and sauce, and roast potatoes, and sausages, and plenty of stuffing,
and Christmas pudding. All the best, Lorry. It will be a while
before you get your next meal, eh?"
"That depends on you, Bern."
"On me?"
"Yes, I've been thinking. You've got to help. You have friends all
over the country, I know. I want to go somewhere I might get a ship.
Come on, think quickly. You've got to provide the address where
you'll send the rest of the money to me. See? I'm on the run. One
of your friends must give me shelter."
"One of my friends?"
"You bet! A receiver of stolen goods like you has friends
everywhere, especially at shipping ports."
Bern remained silent, finger on chin.
"What about Plymouth?" he asked at last. "I have a friend there.
Maybe he'd help. Think you can get there?"
"I'll get anywhere. A safe address is what I need, Bern."
Bern handed over a sheet of paper and a pencil and dictated an
address in Plymouth. The other wrote it down, put the paper into his
pocket, grinned knowingly, and then sat down to the food. He looked
now and then at Bern, who was huddled over the fire, his palms
together, his hooked nose and clipped beard sharply defined against
the red glow.
"What are you thinking, Bern?"
The Jew sat up, straightening his shoulders.
"It'll be a hard job for you, Lorry, to get away. They've discovered
the judge."
"What's that?"
"They've discovered the judge lying dead on the floor of the Clue
Club. The members discovered him when they recovered from their
doped drink."
"Who told you all this?" demanded the other, putting down his knife
and fork quickly.
"I heard it over the wireless. Not half an hour ago."
"Well?"
"There isn't any clue--so far. They have interviewed the real
waiter."
"And what does he say?"
"He says that he, too, was drugged. He says that somebody sent him a
bottle of beer and he drank it, and that's all he knows."
"Does he say who sent him this bottle of beer?"
"No. He says it came to his room with a note from a friend. But he
can't remember what he did with the note. He won't give you away,
Lorry."
There was a short, quick laugh.
"No, he won't give me away, Bern. They won't find a clue. I'm all
right."
"You must have covered your prints well, Lorry. You always were good
at covering a trail."
"Not so bad, Bern."
"All the same, Lorry, you'll have to be careful. You can't go out
and walk along the street openly. The cops will be on the lookout.
If you were seen under a lamp, say, it would be all up, wouldn't it?"
"It might--but on the other hand, it might not."
"It is too big a risk, Lorry."
"Can you suggest a way to lessen the risk?"
"I've been thinking. Yes, I've been thinking. Maybe I can. You'll
need another overcoat. Supposing the cops have an idea it was
you--they'll be watching for every chance to get you. You've got a
new suit. You'll need a new overcoat. I have an old one that might
fit you."
"Yes?"
"And I was thinking that there is a train passes the suburban station
in about an hour or so. It is the first newspaper train bound for
Devon way. First editions, I think. They take on some return milk
churns at the station. It's a slow train, but it gets to Devon early
in the morning. Now if you could get aboard it?"
"I'll get aboard it. Will the ticket office be open? Are passengers
taken by that train?"
"Oh yes. There will be passengers. It calls at a lot of small
stations. A slow train. There are always passengers with it. If
you cared you could take that train a bit down the line and then
change and catch the later night express----"
"I think not. I'll take the slow train. That's a good idea, Bern.
But how can I get to the station from here? The river runs beyond
your garden----"
"The river is frozen over, Lorry. You can make a short cut that way.
It's hard frost outside. Been freezing all day. You can't go along
the main road, anyway."
"Why?"
For answer Bern motioned his visitor to the window and drew aside the
blind.
"Look!"
An occasional pedestrian was to be seen walking swiftly along the
white street. But the main object was a figure who stood under a
street lamp a little way down on the opposite side. The figure was
that of a policeman wrapped in his greatcoat.
"He may be watching this house, Lorry. I don't know. But you can't
risk it. Think of me, Lorry. You can't go that way."
"Thinking of yourself, Bern, eh? All right. What about it?"
"I'll take you down the garden, Lorry, and let you out by the gate at
the bottom. It's a straight walk across the spare bit of land to the
river bank. Cross the river and you're safe. The railway is less
than half a mile from the other side. There's a path up to the
platform. What do you say?"
"Sounds all right. Get me your overcoat."
He put it on when Bern brought it and pulled his cap over his eyes.
"It's a good thing for you the river is frozen, Lorry," said Bern,
slily. "It's a short cut, isn't it? And they said over the
broadcast that the killing of the judge must have been the work of a
desperate criminal."
"Never mind what they said, Bern. You and I sink or swim together,
old Yid."
"But, Lorry, I'm out of the receiving business now. I told you----"
"Aw, that doesn't cut any ice with me, Bern. There's your past. I'm
going to live on your past, Bern. I need your past, believe me. If
I'm caught so are you."
He twirled the cudgel in his hand.
"Come on, Bern. Show me the way."
They went out by the back door and down the long garden. A gate led
on to a narrow piece of spare land. Beyond this strip was the frozen
river. Bern pointed to the railway on the other side.
"That's your way, Lorry. So long. Safe journey, Lorry."
"Just before I go, Bern, let me say this. I killed that judge
unknowingly. I was arguing with him about that old Jewish law that
says a killer should be killed. I said it wasn't correct, or just.
And he tried to kill me. So I happened to hit him and he died.
Maybe you know the bit of the old Mosaic law. Anyway, it was only
retaliation--his death."
"I know the law, Lorry. I know what you mean. _He that smiteth a
man so that he die shall surely be put to death_. And the next verse
says--what is it that it says? I remember something about it----"
"So long, Bern!"
Bern was fingering his chin in an effort to remember the text of the
old law.
The man who had killed the judge was on the river bank when Bern
recollected the words he sought. He began to repeat them half aloud.
"_And if a man lie not in wait, but God deliver him into his hand;
then I will appoint thee a place whither he shall flee----_"
"That's me, Bern," came the voice from the bank. "I'm fleeing, and
you appointed me a place!"
The Jew continued to quote from his memory. But he saw the fugitive
put his foot on the ice of the frozen river to test it. The surface
creaked, but held. The fugitive stepped forward and strode boldly
toward the opposite bank. He was out of earshot now, but Bern was
still muttering.
"I used to know all that chapter, Lorry. Ach, yes. _And he that
smiteth his father, or his mother, shall be surely put to death. And
he that stealeth a man, and selleth him----_"
He raised his eyes and looked at the figure that was moving dimly
across the ice.
"You tried to sell _me_, Lorry Black! You tried to sell _me_!"
And Bern watched intently through lowered eyelids.
The fugitive had reached the center of the river when he gave a
shout. The ice cracked under him. His feet went through. He tried
to recover, his arms above his head, the bludgeon waving in the air.
Crack! Crack! Splinter!
The ice broke beneath his weight. He fell. It smashed all around
him.
Bern watched and listened.
He heard the smothered cry and saw the ice heave as it broke into