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Updated: August 1, 2024
Brink stepped over briskly and closed the door between the scene of catastrophe and the immaculate shop. Somehow, none of the mess had spilled back through the doorway. Then he came in, frowning a little. "The fight's out of them," he said cheerfully. "One's got a bad cut on his head. The other's completely unnerved. Tsk! Tsk! I hate to have such things happen!"
He painstakingly looked like a very honest man. After a moment there were responsive grins. "If there's anything missing when I start back," said Hoddan, "I can't imagine how it happened! None of you would take anything. Oh, no! I bet you'll blame it on me!" He shook his head and said "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." One of the guards sat up and said appreciatively: "But it's locked. Good."
Brink grinned faintly, but he said pleasantly: "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." "He jams down the accelerator and rams a telephone pole," pursued Fitzgerald. "There's four hoods in that car, remember, and every one of 'em's got a police record you could paper a house with. And they've got four sawed-off shotguns and a tommy-gun in the back seat. They're all laid out cold when the cops arrive."
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