The Red Gem of Mercury by Henry Kuttner

Red Gem of Mercury
    by Henry Kuttner
    A stone from the stars kept vigil, and a dead man smiled, as Steve Vane bore a death token from Mercury to the man who had promised him—murder!
Chapter 1
    Stone from the Stars
    The noise of pursuit was growing louder. Steve Vane’s lungs ached with each knife-thrust, gasping breath of the icy air. His gray prison garments were no protection against the wintry breeze, and his thin shoes were already wet with snow and beginning to freeze.
    It was hard to keep going. It would be far easier to give up the mad attempt, to stop and wait, with his hands in the air, till the guards came and took him back to the bare gray walls of his cell. But—Vane took a quick glance at the grim-faced man racing along beside him—if tough little Tony Apollo could keep going, certainly husky, big-shouldered Steve Vane could grit his teeth and stagger along. But where would it end? The break had been hopeless from the start, doomed to certain failure. Only the iron determination of Tony Apollo, and the burning sense of injustice rankling within Vane had kept the latter’s will firm.
    â€œPasqual framed us both,” Apollo had said, his dark face sombre with hatred. “I’ve been in here longer than you have—but I’m getting out now. If you’re smart, you’re coming with me. One of us has a chance to get Pasqual before the cops nail us.”
    And so the two had planned and fled. Blue and shaking with cold, they plunged along the bank of the river gorge toward the cabin Apollo had said would serve as a hideout.
    â€œHow—how much further?” Vane managed to gasp, and hated himself for the weakness his question betrayed. Apollo managed a twisted grin. “Just over the ridge, kid. Dunno if I can make it. Those damn guards—that bullet went into my lungs. Steve, if I—if I croak, get Pasqual for me. When he framed me into the big house, I told him I’d come back, and he knows I’ve never broke my word. I—”
    Apollo grimaced and coughed blood. He lurched; Vane gripped the smaller man’s arm and pulled him along for a few steps. Then the gangster pulled free and plunged ahead, ploughing up snow as he ran.
    True enough, Vane thought, Apollo had never broken his word. The whole set-up was fantastic. Two years ago Tony Apollo had been the underworld king of Kentonville, and had tried to bribe Vane and failed. For, in those days, Steve Vane had been a struggling, idealistic lawyer in the slum district.
    Then big Mike Pasqual, Apollo’s lieutenant, had stepped in. Very cleverly he had framed his chief. Apollo had gone to prison and Pasqual reigned in his place. Anybody who got in his way was crushed. As Steve Vane had been crushed—suspended from the bar and given a long prison term because of certain papers Pasqual had had forged. Now the two doomed men fled along the snowy brink of the gorge in a gray, ominous half-light, with a wintry breeze numbing their bodies. And behind them came men with guns.
    Almost at the summit of the ridge it happened. Apollo clutched at his side, lurched, and cried out sharply. Vane whirled; his hand went out in a futile gesture. For already the little gangster was falling… .
    The treacherous snow banked on the edge of the abyss crumbled beneath him. He was gone almost before Vane realized it. Sick with horror, the lawyer moved forward and peered over. He saw the body, far below, bound off a rock and vanish into the swift, turbulent river.
    Tony Apollo was dead, and he had failed to keep his last promise. A shout sounded eerily from the distance. Vane heard the noise of a shot—the high whine and the sharp report. He glanced over his shoulder, saw three dark forms, and caught his breath, hesitating. What now? He had not realized before just how much he had come to depend on Apollo’s grim, iron will. But the gangster was gone—
    The hideout! It lay just over the ridge. Perhaps