Slim's eyes were looking far away. "At the end of the week," he said.
"We've got enough money in the bank to pay all our bills. We've got
a couple thousand in the safe, and we'll take in three or four more.
Tomorrow's Friday. The next day will be Saturday and we should handle
four thousand cars. We blow Saturday night. We'll go to the coast."
"Will I have time to get a haircut?" I asked hopefully.
"No. Get your hair cut in L.A." He went on dreamily, "We should have
five thousand. We can start up again, and this time we'll start off
right, so we can run indefinitely without anybody catching on. We've
got some capital to work with now."
* * * * *
Friday was a good day. Slim only chuckled when I told him there was
a man sitting across the street with a pad of paper and a pencil,
tallying the cars that came in and those that went out.
"We're good for tomorrow," said Slim, "then they can have it. I've got
plane reservations for two a.m."
He didn't say so, but I think he was getting as tight inside as I was.
We were close--thirty hours from five thousand dollars--enough to go
through college in good shape.
Saturday was a bell-ringer. By six o'clock in the evening we had parked
over four thousand cars, and they were still coming. The safe was full
of tens and twenties, all nicely wrapped and labeled, and our two
suitcases were beside it. Still the money was pouring in. Nine cars a
minute. One every seven seconds. Two hundred and fifty dollars an hour.
It was better than a mint. The basement floor was beginning to fill up.
At six-thirty Slim was bringing a car back to full size and saying to
me, "Watch this one. This is the building inspector's car; he's trying
to get a clue."
At that exact moment a voice spoke behind us. "I beg your pardon,
gentlemen." It was one of those clear, soft voices with little tinkling
bells in it. Know what I mean?
Slim turned and stared. "Madam," he said, "don't you know the sign says
'No Admittance'?"
She looked repentant. "I'm sorry." She looked hurt. "I didn't think you
gentlemen would mind." She turned as if to go.
I saw Slim melting down. I didn't blame him. That girl could have
melted tungsten. Yes, I recognized her from her pictures in the society
section--the mayor's wife.
Slim was apologizing. "I beg your pardon, Madam. It's quite all right.
Your loveliness and radiant beauty just startled us. We--"
While Slim was laying it on thick, the building inspector's car was
expanding. Now it became considerably too big for the stall and split
it like a stick of dynamite going off in a shoe-box. It split it into a
thousand pieces and then stood there, a passenger car seven feet tall.
[Illustration: The mayor's wife gasped as she saw the tiny car.]
The mayor's wife gave a little scream of delight. Slim gave a horrified
gasp. I tried to faint.
"Oh," she said, "such a big car!"