“Jesus!” Dortmunder whispered.

“Dortmunder,” the creature hissed at him, “its me! Kelp!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Dortmunder said, and got so mad he forgot where he was and threw the chisel down. The clang it made when it hit the fire escape made him jump a foot.

“For Pete’s sake, Dortmunder,” Kelp whispered, “don’t be so noisy!”

“Go away, Kelp,” Dortmunder said. He spoke in a normal tone of voice, not giving a damn about anything any more.

“I want to talk to you,” Kelp whispered. “May told me where you were.”

“May has a big mouth,” Dortmunder said, still speaking aloud.

“So do you, fella!” a voice shouted from one or two buildings away. “How about turning it off so we can get some sleep!”

Kelp whispered, “Come up here, Dortmunder, I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Dortmunder said. He wasn’t keeping his voice down at all; in fact, it was starting to go up. “I don’t ever want to talk to you,” he said. “I don’t even want to see you.”

“How would you like to see some cops!” the voice yelled.

“Oh, shut up!” Dortmunder yelled back.

“We’ll see about that!”

Somewhere, a window slammed.

Urgent, shrill, Kelp whispered, “Dortmunder, come up here, will you? And keep it low, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Not keeping it low, Dortmunder said, “I’m not going up there, you’re going away. I’m going to stay down here and do my work.”

“You’re on the wrong floor,” Kelp whispered.

Dortmunder, bending down and feeling around for his chisel, frowned and looked up at the vague figure against the gray-red clouds. “I am not,” he said.

“It’s—there’s an extra—that’s the basement down there?’

“The what?” Dortmunder’s hand found the chisel. He straightened, holding it, and frowned down into impenetrable darkness. There was another story down there, he was sure of it. So this was the second floor.