The Efficiency Expert

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 103

from Jimmy to himself.

The Lizard therefore was in a quandary. Of course, if Murray's
connection was ever discovered the Lizard might then be drawn into it,
but if he could keep Murray out the Lizard would be reasonably safe from
suspicion, and now the girl had shown him how he might remove a damaging
piece of evidence against Murray.

"You will get it, won't you?" asked the girl.

"Where are these papers?" he asked.

"They are in the outer office which adjoins Mr. Compton's. My desk
stands at the right of the door as you enter from the main office.
Remove the right-hand lower drawer and you will find the papers lying on
the little wooden partition directly underneath the drawer."

"All right," said the Lizard; "I'll get them."

"Bless you, Lizard," cried the girl. "I knew you would help. You and I
are the only friends he has. If we went back on him he'd be sent up, for
there's lots of money being used against him. He might even be hanged. I
know from what I have heard that the prosecuting attorney intends to ask
for the death penalty."

The Lizard made no reply as he started to leave the taxi.

"Take them to his attorney," said the girl, and she gave him the name
and address.

The Lizard grunted and entered his own cab. As he did so a man on a
motorcycle drew up on the opposite side and peered through the window.
The driver had started his motor as the newcomer approached. From her
cab the girl saw the Lizard and the man on the motorcycle look into each
other's face for a moment, then she heard the Lizard's quick admonition
to his driver, "Beat it, bo!"

A sharp "Halt!" came from the man on the motorcycle, but the taxicab
leaped forward, and, accelerating rapidly, turned to the left into the
road toward the city. The girl had guessed at the first glance that the
man on the motorcycle was a police officer. As the Lizard's taxi raced
away the officer circled quickly and started in pursuit. "No chance,"
thought the girl. "He'll get caught sure." She could hear the staccato
reports from the open exhaust of the motorcycle diminishing rapidly in
the distance, indicating the speed of the pursued and the pursuer.

And then from the distance came a shot and then another and another.
She leaned forward and spoke to her own driver. "Go on to Elmhurst," she
said, "and then come back to the city on the St. Charles Road."

It was after two o'clock in

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