Burn, Witch, Burn!

I heard the clock strike one as I walked up the hospital steps.
Ordinarily I would have been in bed and asleep, but there was a case
in which I was much interested, and Braile, my assistant, had
telephoned me of certain developments which I wished to observe. It
was a night in early November. I paused for a moment at the top of the
steps to look at the brilliancy of the stars. As I did so an
automobile drew up at the entrance to the hospital.

As I stood, wondering what its arrival at that hour meant, a man
slipped out of it. He looked sharply up and down the deserted street,
then threw the door wide open. Another man emerged. The two of them
stooped and seemed to be fumbling around inside. They straightened and
then I saw that they had locked their arms around the shoulders of a
third. They moved forward, not supporting but carrying this other man.
His head hung upon his breast and his body swung limply.

A fourth man stepped from the automobile.

I recognized him. He was Julian Ricori, a notorious underworld
chieftain, one of the finished products of the Prohibition Law. He had
been pointed out to me several times. Even if he had not been, the
newspapers would have made me familiar with his features and figure.
Lean and long, with silvery white hair, always immaculately dressed, a
leisured type from outward seeming, rather than leader of such
activities as those of which he was accused.

I had been standing in the shadow, unnoticed. I stepped out of the
shadow. Instantly the burdened pair halted, swiftly as hunting hounds.
Their free hands dropped into the pockets of their coats. Menace was
in that movement.

"I am Dr. Lowell," I said, hastily. "Connected with the hospital.
Come right along."

They did not answer me. Nor did their gaze waver from me; nor did
they move. Ricori stepped in front of them. His hands were also in his
pockets. He looked me over, then nodded to the others; I felt the
tension relax.

"I know you, Doctor," he said pleasantly, in oddly precise
English. "But that was quite a chance you took. If I might advise you,
it is not well to move so quickly when those come whom you do not
know, and at night--not in this town."

"But," I said, "I do know you, Mr. Ricori."

"Then," he smiled, faintly, "your judgment was doubly at fault.
And my advice doubly pertinent."

There was an awkward moment of silence. He broke it.

"And being who I am, I shall feel much better inside your doors
than outside."