The cab caromed around corners, hit the Outer Drive and hurled along
like a frightened cotton-tail until it reached the near North side,
where it swung west and sped through the labyrinthine streets that led
to Reggie's apartment.
From the rear window Reggie could see Mr. Demise's cab speeding after
them, steadily closing the gap. His palms were moist and the effects of
the liquor had completely faded, leaving him horribly sober. There was
nothing funny about this predicament.
His cab jolted to a stop and Reggie threw a bill at the driver and
leaped out and raced into the foyer of his building.
By a miraculous stroke of luck the elevator was not in use. He slammed
the door and jabbed the button and the car started upward with a jerk.
He breathed a long shuddering sigh of relief. Maybe there would yet be
time....
The elevator stopped at his floor. Just as he opened the door and
stepped out, the elevator suddenly dropped back down the shaft. One of
his legs dangled down the shaft. With a startled squawk he pulled
himself onto the floor landing.
Mr. Demise obviously meant business. If he'd been in that elevator
everything would be all over now. As it was he still had a chance.
He let himself into his apartment, switched on the light and dove
underneath the coffee table. The black book of doom was still there.
Frantically Reggie opened it to the first page, found his own name.
He jerked a pencil from his pocket....
He was still scribbling furiously when the door of the apartment banged
open and Mr. Demise strode into the room, his face black as a
thundercloud.
Reggie dropped the pencil and hid the book from view with his body.
"So!" Mr. Demise cried. "You would try to escape?"
He raised both hands commandingly in the air.
Before he could move again Reggie wheeled about.
"Just a minute," he shrieked. He held out the slim black book to Mr.
Demise. "I was sure a mistake had been made. Here! Look for yourself."
"I want no more of your tricks," Mr. Demise warned ominously.
"This is no trick," Reggie said. "You should be grateful to me for
catching the error in time."
* * * * *
Mr. Demise took the book from Reggie and examined it carefully. The
frown gradually faded from his face as his eyes lingered on the page. He
shuffled his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat.
"It seems," he said in a small, chastened voice, "that a mistake has
been made."
Reggie's heart pounded with hope.
"It certainly has," he said. "This entire affair should be reported to
someone. That's what happens when you put inexperienced men on the job.
You wind up with a bungled mess."
"I don't know how it happened," Mr. Demise said miserably. "All I can
say is I'm sorry."
"Fine thing," Reggie said stuffily. "Mess up your job like this and then
say you're sorry. I'd advise, Demise, that you lay off the liquor when
you're supposed to be working."
"I will in the future," Mr. Demise said humbly.
"See that you do," Reggie said sternly. "Now I'd say you'd better get to
work on that first assignment."
"Yes, I will," Mr. Demise said. With drooping shoulders he moved slowly
to the door. With his hand on the knob he turned again to Reggie.
"I hate to be a pest," he said, "but I'm afraid I don't know how to go
about this job. Maybe you could help me. Where can I find this fellow?"
Reggie chuckled and began to mix himself a drink.
"I'd advise you to try Berchtesgaden," he said. "Just ask anyone you
meet. They'll tell you where you can find Adolf Hitler."
"Thank you," Mr. Demise said gratefully. "I won't slip up on this one."
"See that you don't," Reggie said.