Time Tunnel by Murray Leinster

than usual, he found Albert ransacking his possessions. Albert struggled desperately when Carroll seized him, but there he was. Carroll said ruefully, “And there he was, too, when Dubois came out of the time-tunnel. Which was unfortunate.”
    “Unfortunate?” cried Madame Carroll, in a passion. “It was a crime! You imbecile! This criminal…”
    “Just a moment,” said Pepe. “The gentleman is a burglar. He practises his profession privately, without witnesses. Perhaps he can understand that you prefer your business to be considered confidential, too.”
    The prisoner said shrewdly:
    “Counterfeiting, eh? We can make a deal.”
    “For the sake of privacy,” Pepe added, more nearly in his normal manner, “he can see that you might find it necessary to report to the police that M. Carroll was forced to injure him fatally in order to subdue him.”
    “That is not necessary!” objected Albert sharply. “It is not necessary at all! If I were a flic , perhaps! But since we are of similar professions…”
    “The matter could be solved,” said Pepe with a grand air, “by the use of professional courtesy and a gentleman’s agreement.”
    “ C’est vrai! ” said Albert. “Naturally! I will pledge my honor not to speak of anything that has occurred here! That will settle everything!”
    Carroll grunted. “Harrison, any ideas?”
    Harrison moistened his lips. Somehow he was still thinking of those vertical rays of sunlight beyond the tunnel in the other room, whereas he could look out of a window here and see the deep-red glow of the sky above a just-descended sun. That bright sunshine bothered him horribly. It was appalling; upsetting!
    “I think,” he said awkwardly, “that I’d let him see what you just showed Pepe and me. I don’t think it’s likely that he’d tell about that!”
    Carroll considered. Then he nodded. He picked up the bound man and walked effortlessly into the other room. Harrison heard the clatter of the opening door. There was silence.
    Then Madame Carroll said bitterly, “It is unfortunate that one cannot…”
    The hatchet in her hand moved suggestively. M. Dubois shivered. There was silence. A long silence. Then sounds in the next room again. The improvised door creaked and shut, and a moment later Carroll brought back the burglar. He laid him matter-of-factly on the floor. Albert’s face was ashen. His eyes rolled. Carroll regarded him meditatively, and then took a knife out of his pocket and opened it. He cut the cords which bound the prisoner.
    “I think,” he said, “that he is impressed.”
    “ M-mon Dieu! ” said the prisoner hoarsely, “ M-mon Dieu! ”
    Harrison saw Carroll bending to lift the small, scared Albert to his feet. He helped. The little man’s teeth chattered. Carroll nodded.
    “Let him out, Harrison. Good idea! He won’t talk!”
    Harrison led the burglar through the dining room and the room which opened toward the street. The small criminal wavered and shook upon his feet. His teeth continued to chatter. Harrison said, frowning, “You’ll attract attention if you stumble and shake like this! Have you any money?”
    Albert shook his head. Harrison handed him half a dozen hundred-franc notes.
    “Here,” he said distastefully. “You need a drink. Several of them. If I were you, I think I’d have about as many as I could find room for. I wouldn’t mind joining you! But anyhow I advise you to keep your mouth shut!”
    “ Mais oui ,” gasped the former prisoner. “ Mon Dieu, oui! ”
    Harrison opened the door for him. He watched as the little man went unsteadily out to the street and then turned to the left. There was a wine shop not more than a hundred yards away. The former prisoner headed for it. He walked fast. With purpose. Harrison watched him out of sight.
    He went back to the kitchen. Carroll was saying briskly, “Get out of those clothes, Georges, and into something befitting a modern business man. Then we’ll divide up the stock you