This Way for a Shroud

I

DOLORES felt Gollowitz’s mind was wandering. He didn’t appear to be as pleased to see her as she thought he should. She selected a low-slung armchair and sat down, taking a deliberate moment before adjusting her skirt. She saw his eyes go quickly to her knees, and she allowed him a moment to look at them before she hid them from his sight with a sweep of her hand.

“Then you haven’t heard from Jack?” she asked.

Gollowitz shook his head.

“Not a word.” He rubbed his fat chin and wondered if it would be safe to go over and kiss her. But he didn’t know where Seigel was, and he was afraid Seigel might come in at any moment. He regretfully decided to remain where he was. “I wish he would let me know where he is. I don’t like being out of touch like this.”

“But you’re doing very well, aren’t you, Abe?” she asked, watching him thoughtfully. “You’re not worried?”

“Of course I’m worried,” Gollowitz said sharply. “Who wouldn’t be? Even Jack would be worried if he had to handle this set-up. If we can’t get at this girl…”

Dolores quickly decided she didn’t want to hear about the girl nor Gollowitz’s plans. The less she knew the safer she’d be if Gollowitz made a bad mistake.

“Well, never mind,” she said. “I’m sure you will manage, darling.” She crossed her shapely legs. “I only looked in to see if there was any news of Jack.” She opened her handbag, glanced in it and frowned. “I seem to be getting short of money. Did Jack tell you to look after me?”

Gollowitz shook his head.

“No, he didn’t tell me. I guess he forgot, but that’s all right, Dolly; what do you want?”

“It will be your money?” She looked at him with her wide exciting eyes. “I don’t think I could let you…”

“No, Dolly, don’t let’s be silly about this.” He took out his billfold and put a sheaf of bills on the desk. “Will five hundred hold you?”

“Of course.” She got up and came over to the desk. “Abe, darling, you’re very sweet to me. I don’t know what I should do without you.”

He smelt the subtle perfume she was wearing, and he felt his mouth turn dry with desire for her. As she leaned forward he saw her breasts swing against the soft fabric of her dress.

He half started to his feet, his fat face congested and his eyes glittering when the door opened and Seigel and Ferrari came in.

Dolores picked up the bills and put them in her bag. She didn’t look round. Her face was calm and her eyes a little amused as she watched Gollowitz struggle to control his emotion.

“Sorry,” Seigel said. “I didn’t know you were busy.”

“I’m just going,” Dolores said, turning to smile at him. Her eyes encountered Ferrari’s sunken, gleaming orbs, and her smile stiffened. “I — I was just getting some money.” She had never been confused before in her life, but this ghastly looking dwarf who stared at her with eves that seemed to undress her frightened her.

“Come in, come in.” Gollowitz said, trying to sound hearty. “Okay, Dolly. If there’s any little thing I can do while Jack’s away…”

Dolores nodded and walked to the door. She had to pass Ferrari, and she instinctively walked around him in a semicircle rather than get too near him.

Ferrari eyed her over, stared at her long legs, then ran his bony finger down his nose.

When she had closed the door behind her, he said, “Who’s the twist?”

“That’s Mrs. Maurer,” Seigel told him. “Didn’t you know?”

Ferrari lifted his eyebrows and came over to an armchair near the desk and sat down. He wriggled himself into the chair until his feet hung a few inches from the ground.

“Looks like Maurer takes care of his nights as well as his days,” he said, and his thin mouth curled into a leering smile.

“What’s the news?” Gollowitz asked abruptly, his face flushing.

“The news?” Ferrari repeated, staring at him. “Well, it’s okay. Weiner goes tonight.” He folded his claw-like hands in his lap. “At ten sharp.”

Both Seigel and Gollowitz stared at him.

“You wouldn’t be kidding?” Seigel asked blankly.

Ferrari ignored him.

“It’ll be a nice smooth job,” he said, evidently very pleased with himself. “One of my best jobs.”

“How is it to be done?” Gollowitz asked in a hushed voice.

“I had to have inside help,” Ferrari explained. “That was essential. I have persuaded Sergeant O’Brien to help me.”

“O’Brien?” Gollowitz exclaimed, leaning forward. “But you can’t trust him. We’ve never got anywhere with him.”

Ferrari smiled.

“Maybe you didn’t find out his particular weakness. Everyone has a weakness. O’Brien has a son. He happens to be very fond of him. I have a son too, and I have learned that sons are precious to fathers: more precious sometimes than wives. A man likes to think that when he dies his name will be carried on. O’Brien is no exception. So he has agreed to help.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Seigel exclaimed admiringly. “I didn’t even know he had a son.”

“It’ll be accidental?” Gollowitz asked anxiously.

“Certainly. Weiner will come over faint in his bath. He will slip under the water and unfortunately drown. Will that suit you?”

Ferrari’s face and voice were so cold-blooded and casual that both Gollowitz

and Seigel exchanged uneasy glances.

“That’s fine,” Gollowitz said. “Then tonight for certain?”

“At ten. Weiner takes a tub at night. It’s a habit.”

“But how will you get into the bathroom?” Seigel asked. “I thought the place was sewn up tight.”

Ferrari shrugged.

“Getting into the bathroom won’t be difficult. The window is small, but then so am I. The only snag was that before Weiner went into the bathroom it was searched. That was why I had to get O’Brien to co-operate. He will do the searching tonight.”

“Well, okay: I hand it to you,” Seigel said. “You really think you’ll succeed?”

“I’ve never failed.”

Gollowitz said huskily, “And what about the girl? What are you going to do about her?”

“Don’t let us be impatient. First things first,” Ferrari said. “I shall have to make a very special plan for her. She’ll be more closely guarded after Weiner’s gone. It should be an interesting problem.” His sunken eyes studied Gollowitz. “But she’ll go too. I promise you that. It may take a little time: it will take a lot of thought, but she’ll go.” He slid out of his chair. “I think I’ll take a nap. I don’t expect I shall get much sleep tonight. You’ll be here around half-past eleven? I shall then have news for you.”

Gollowitz nodded.

Ferrari walked to the door, opened it, turned to look first at Gollowitz and then at Seigel; then he went out closing the door behind him.

II

The night was hot and close, without a breath of air, and heavy’, black clouds hung in the sky. All day there had been a brooding, still atmosphere that had been getting hotter and more electric as the hours passed.

Conrad stood on the stoop of the hunting lodge and stared up at the sky.

“I’ll be glad when the storm breaks,” he said to Madge Fielding. “This is making me feel like a wet rag.”

Madge, who had spent the entire day with Frances, had come out on the verandah for a change of air. In spite of the close atmosphere, it was at least a little cooler outside than in the lodge.

“I’m just off to check the guards,” Conrad said. “Want to come?”

“I’ll come,” Madge said. “I don’t think the storm will burst before we get back, do you?”

“I don’t think so. There’s no wind yet. Anyway, I’m going in the car as far as the road.”

As Madge got into the car, she said, “You know I feel I’ve been here for months instead of a week. How long do you think we’ll have to remain here?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did. The D.A.’s coming down on Saturday. He’s going to talk to Miss Coleman. It’s up to him now. She’s defeated me. If he can’t persuade her to talk, we’ll have to think what to do with her. We just can’t keep her here much longer. But if she decides to talk, then we’ll stay here until the trial: probably for three months.”

“What do you think of her, Paul?” Madge asked as Conrad drove down the mile-long drive.

“She’s a nice girl,” Conrad said cautiously. “What do you think?”

“I like her, and I feel sorry for her. I think she’s in some kind of mess.”

“Has she said anything?”

“Oh, no. But I’ve watched her. She’s having quite a time, trying to make up her mind about something. She broods an awful lot. I think she is wavering, Paul. A little more persuasion might bring her down on our side. She’s very worried about Weiner. She keeps asking me if I think he’s safe.”

“Oh, he’s safe enough,” Conrad said impatiently. “It’ll be when I take him to the court-house that the trouble will start. They are certain to have a go at him

between here and the court-house. It’s their only chance.”

He slowed down as the massive gates came into his headlights.

Five policemen, each armed with a riot gun, were standing by the gates. One of them came up to the car as Conrad pulled up.

“All okay?” he asked through the open window.

“Yes, sir. Nothing to report.”

“There’s a storm coming up. Keep your eyes open tonight. Have you all got slickers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stay out here even if it rains stair-rods,” Conrad said. “Two of you will be enough. The other three can keep under cover, but I want two of you out here all night.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. I’m going down to the road-block now.”

The policeman saluted and walked over to open the gates.

Conrad drove down the long narrow road until they came to the road-block. He spoke to the guards, warned them to keep on the alert, satisfied himself the search-light was working and there were no absentees, then he swung the car on to a dirt track that led to the cliff head.

Half-way up the track, he came to another guard post, and leaving the car, he walked with Madge up the steep path that brought them to the top of the perpendicular cliff.

There were three sentry-box huts on the cliff top, about a hundred yards apart. Guards were patrolling the cliff, and one of them came over when he caught sight of Conrad in the failing light.

Leaving Madge, Conrad walked the length of the cliff head with the guard.

“Watch out tonight,” he cautioned. “It’s going to be bad, and it’ll be on a night

like this they might try to reach the lodge, if they’re going to try.”

“They won’t come this way, sir,” the guard said. “I’ve done a bit of mountain climbing myself. No one could climb up here. I’ve looked it over pretty thoroughly. It’s impossible to climb.”

“All the same, keep your eyes skinned. Your lights all right?”

“All checked and correct, sir.”

As Conrad joined Madge, he felt a little puff of hot wind against his face.

“Did you feel that? The storm can’t be far off now.” He looked up at the dark sky. The great black clouds were piling up and beginning to move. “Let’s get back. We don’t want to get wet.”

“They must be safe,” Madge said, speaking her thoughts aloud as they drove back to the hunting lodge. “No one could get through to them, could they, Paul?”

“Don’t worry,” he returned. “I’m satisfied it’s all right. I don’t think an attempt will be made so long as they remain here. Maurer will try to get them when they come into the open. That’s the time we shall really have to be on our guard.”

Thunder was rumbling in the distance as Conrad put the car into the garage, and walked with Madge back to the lodge. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of one of the guards, a police dog at his heels, moving through the trees.

“It’s still some way off,” he said, as they mounted the steps to the verandah. “I’d better grab a slicker before they all go.”

“You won’t be going out again tonight, will you?”

“It’s the only way I can be sure the guards keep on their toes. If they thought I wasn’t going to show up, they’d take cover as soon as it started to rain.”

Conrad saw a dim, shadowy figure sitting on the verandah.

“Is that vou. Tom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” O’Brien said.

“I think I’ll turn in,” Madge said. “Miss Coleman’s gone up. There’s a light in her room. Good night, Paul. Good night, sergeant.”

Conrad wandered over to where O’Brien was sitting and flopped into a chair beside him.

“Phew! It’s close.”

“Going to be a storm,” O’Brien said. There was a flat, uneasy note in his voice that made Conrad prick up his ears.

“It won’t reach us for another hour yet. What’s the time, Tom?”

“Quarter to ten. It’s coming up a damn sight faster than you imagine. I bet you it’ll be right over the house in ten minutes. Hark at that,” he went on as thunder crashed suddenly. “Coming up fast.”

“All okay your end, Tom?”

“I guess so.”

The flat, uneasy voice had a disquieting effect on Conrad.

“Are you all right, Tom?” he asked, trying to see O’Brien in the darkness.

“Of course I’m all right,” O’Brien snapped, and heaved himself out of his chair. “I guess that punk wants his bath now. It’s coming up for ten o’clock.”

“I’ll come with you,” Conrad said, still a little worried by O’Brien’s apparent edginess. “I want to make the rounds before I turn in.”

“Are you going out again?”

“Yes, about three, I guess.”

A flash of lightning lit up the verandah, and Conrad was startled to see how pale O’Brien looked.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Tom?”

“Hell, yes! Maybe the storm’s given me a headache, but there’s nothing the matter with me,” O’Brien said, and wiped his glistening face with his handkerchief. “I never did like thunderstorms.”

The crash of thunder that came while he was speaking shook the hunting lodge.

“Phew! It sounds overhead already,” Conrad said.

O’Brien walked into the hall where a guard sat nursing a riot gun.

Conrad joined him and together they walked up the stairs.

“Hot enough to fry eggs,” Conrad said, taking out his handkerchief to mop his face.

O’Brien didn’t say anything. He was wondering if Ferrari had got inside the bathroom yet. His mouth felt dry, and he was aware the muscles in his legs were fluttering and his heart was pounding.

They walked along the lighted passage where another guard sat facing the head of the stairs.

“Hark at that: rain,” Conrad said. “Well, you were right. There must be quite a gale blowing.”

They could hear the rain hammering on the roof. Conrad paused a moment to peer out of the window on the landing. A solid sheet of water streamed down the window pane, sending a white mist of spray as it cascaded down the sloping roof. Jagged flashes of lightning lit up the rain-soaked trees and lawn.

Thunder rolled and crashed in a deafening crescendo.

O’Brien opened Pete’s bedroom door.

Pete was in his dressing-gown, a towel over his arm. He stood by the window, looking out.

Two of his guards were playing gin rummy at a table away from the window. The third guard nursed a riot gun and watched Pete’s back with bored indifference.

At the sound of the door opening, Pete looked around. The two guards at the table stiffened, their hands moving to their hip pockets. The guard with the riot gun got to his feet.

“Okay, relax,” Conrad said, coming in. He was pleased to see how alert everyone was. “Some night, huh?”

“I’ll say,” the guard with the riot gun returned.

Conrad noticed Pete was looking past him at O’Brien, and there was an alert, quizzing look in Pete’s eyes. Conrad looked quickly at O’Brien. He was surprised to see how white and hard O’Brien’s face was, and there was a savage gleam in his eyes Conrad had never seen before.

“Well, come on,” O’Brien said, and he seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth. He walked out of the room and Pete followed him.

The two guards resumed their card game. The guard holding the riot gun groped for a cigarette.

Conrad stood hesitating, then he went after Pete.

Pete was walking just behind O’Brien, along the passage to the bathroom, which was down a few stairs and round a bend in the passage. They had to pass Frances’s room which was a few feet from the bathroom.

Conrad caught up with Pete as O’Brien turned the bathroom door handle and pushed the door open.

“Stay here,” O’Brien growled to Pete, and turning on the light he walked into the bathroom.

Conrad moved around Pete and stood in the doorway, watching O’Brien, who glanced over his shoulder and saw Conrad. It was only with a tremendous effort that O’Brien managed to keep his face expressionless.

O’Brien opened the big cupboard door and glanced inside, then he crossed over to the shower curtains. His heart was beating so violently he could scarcely breathe.

He turned his broad back towards the door and partially blotted out the shower curtains from Conrad’s view. Then he parted the curtains and glanced inside.

Even though he was expecting to see Ferrari behind the curtains, the shock of looking into those deep-sunken murderous eyes made his heart turn a somersault.

Ferrari, as still as a statue, held an automatic in his right hand which pointed at O’Brien’s stomach.

For a split second the two men looked at each other, then O’Brien dropped the curtain and still keeping his face turned from Conrad’s watching eyes, he went over to the toilet basin and began to rinse his hands.

Thunder crashed overhead, and lightning coming through the small window filled the bathroom with a dazzling flash of light.

Conrad came into the bathroom.

“I’ll have a wash too,” he said. “Phew! It’s running off me.”

O’Brien stepped back, and without appearing to do so, forced Conrad away from the shower curtains.

“Think it’s going on all night?” he asked as he began to dry his hands on a towel. He tried very hard to speak casually, but Conrad again caught the overtones of uneasiness in O’Brien’s voice.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He took the towel from O’Brien. Glancing up, his eyes took in the bathroom window. “I’ve been wondering if I should put a second bar up there.”

O’Brien had to make an effort to keep his eyes from straying towards the shower curtains.

“Think anyone could squeeze through that?” he said, trying to sound scornful. “Why, it’s impossible.”

Conrad wandered to the door.

“I guess that’s right.” He moved out into the passage. “Okay, Weiner. Go ahead.”

Pete entered the bathroom.

As O’Brien pushed past him, their eyes met and Pete received a shock. What was the matter with the guy? he wondered. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

Then suddenly he felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. It was just as if a bodiless voice had whispered a warning in his ear. He became transfixed, more frightened than he had ever been before in his life.

O’Brien had reached the door.

“Wait…” Pete managed to stammer. “I — I don’t think…”

A crash of thunder drowned what he was trying to say, but O’Brien saw the livid fear on his face. He realized Pete was about to say he had changed his mind and he wasn’t going to take a bath.

“Get on with it!” he barked as he stepped into the passage. “I’m not going to stay up all night for you!”

He slammed the door as Pete started to speak again.

“These goddamn punks think they own the earth as soon as you treat them like humans,” O’Brien went on to Conrad, keeping his voice raised. “A bath every night! Who the hell thought up that gag?” While he spoke he leaned his back against the door; his hand holding the door knob. He felt the door knob turn, and by the sudden pressure of the door he knew Pete was trying to open it.

“Hadn’t you better go along and see if the girl’s all right?” he said to Conrad. “The storm may be upsetting her.”

He managed to keep the door closed by exerting his great strength. Pete was pulling at the door handle violently.

“Madge’s there,” Conrad said, busy lighting a cigarette. He didn’t notice O’Brien’s strained, white face. “I’ll go along in a little while.”

Another crash of thunder rolled over the house, and faintly O’Brien heard Pete yell through the door panel.

“What was that?” Conrad asked, looking up.

“Thunder,” O’Brien said. “What did you think it was?”

As he spoke he felt the pressure on the door suddenly cease; then the door handle twisted sharply.

“I thought I heard someone call out,” Conrad said, and moved along the passage. He paused outside Frances’s door and listened.

O’Brien stood still, his heart beating unevenly.

Thunder crashed and rolled overhead. The hiss of rain against the windows and the gurgling of water in the gutters blotted out all other sounds.

Then he heard a faint groan come from behind the bathroom door. It was a sound that made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up stiffly.

He stepped away from the door, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.

III

Conrad came back along the passage.

“They’re all right: talking like a couple of magpies,” he said, then catching sight of O’Brien’s white, strained face, he went on, “You’re looking pretty sick, Tom. Why don’t you get off to bed? I’ll wait here for Weiner.”

“There’s nothing the matter with me,” O’Brien snapped. “For the love of mike, lay off, will you? I’m going to bed, anyway, as soon as this punk’s finished.”

Conrad offered his pack of cigarettes, but O’Brien shook his head.

For a long moment the two men stood listening to the violence of the storm, then Conrad asked, “How’s your boy, Tom?”

“He’s all right,” O’Brien returned, giving Conrad a quick, startled look.

“Ever thought how damned lucky you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that.” I’ve always wanted a son, but Janey won’t hear of it. She says it’d spoil her figure.”

“It could at that,” O’Brien said, scarcely knowing what he was saying. “A girl

like your wife doesn’t want to mess around with kids.”

Conrad shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, well, what’s the good of talking? All the same I would like to have a son, and a daughter, too, for that matter.”

O’Brien wiped his face with his handkerchief.

“Why don’t you turn in?” he asked, wondering how much longer Conrad was going to stay outside the bathroom door. “If you’re going out again at three you’ll need some sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep in this storm. How long is he going to be in there?”

“Twenty minutes or so. Hark at that thunder.”

“I wish that Coleman girl would make up her mind to talk,” Conrad said after the rolling crash of thunder had died away. “I’m positive she saw Maurer.”

“Doesn’t look as if she’ll talk now. What are you going to do with her?”

“The D.A. will have to decide that.”

The sound of water splashing behind the bathroom door made O’Brien’s heart skip a beat.

“You know Weiner puzzles me,” Conrad said. Tm inclined to think his birthmark drove him off the rails. There’s no real vice in him: not like the rest of them. What’s his record amount to? We have no evidence he ever committed violence. As far as I know he specializes in stealing cars for the gang. I’ve talked to him, and I think he could be put back on to the rails again.”

“The hell with him!” O’Brien said savagely. “I’ve got no time for these hoods: and that’s what he is. Just because a guy happens to have a birth-mark doesn’t give him the right to steal cars.”

“Isn’t it time he came out?” Conrad said, looking at his strap watch. “He’s been over twenty minutes.”

“Aw, he doesn’t hurry himself.”

Conrad rapped on the door.

“Snap it up, Weiner!” he called.

O’Brien inwardly cursed Conrad. He wondered if Ferrari had gone. With an unsteady hand he lit a cigarette.

The noise of the storm was slowly receding. Every now and then thunder crashed, but it was now more distant. The rain continued to hammer down on the roof and hiss in the gutters.

O’Brien saw Conrad turn the bathroom door handle, then frown.

“He’s locked himself in! There shouldn’t be a lock on this door, Tom.”

“So what?” O’Brien growled.

Conrad rapped again.

“Are you ready, Weiner?”

The silence that greeted him alarmed him.

“Hey, Weiner!”

“What are you getting so heated about?” O’Brien asked.

“Why doesn’t he answer?”

“Maybe he’s sulking. I’ll kick his tail off for him when he comes out.”

“Hey, Weiner!”

Conrad banged on the door with his fist. When there was no answer, he stepped back, his face hardening.

“Come on, Tom! Let’s get this door open!”

“Take it easy,” O’Brien said. “Let me have a go at the punk.”

“We’re wasting time.”

Conrad set himself and drove the flat of his foot against the door lock. The

door creaked but held.

“Let me get at it,” O’Brien said, sure now Ferrari must have gone.

He stepped back, then charged the door, turning his shoulder as he crashed against the door panel.

The door burst open and O’Brien staggered into the bathroom.

“Hell!” Conrad exploded, crowding in behind O’Brien. “Quick, Tom! Help me get him out!”

Pete lay stretched out in the bath. The small room was full of steam. Pete’s head was under the water, and around his head and shoulders the water was a pinkish colour.

O’Brien reached forward and pulled the waste plug out. He caught hold of Pete’s hair and lifted his face clear of the water.

“He must have been crazy to have got into a bath this hot,” he muttered, his hand going down on Pete’s chest. He felt for a heartbeat, then shook his head. “He’s gone, Paul.”

“Move over!” Conrad snapped. “Let me get hold of his legs. Come on! Get him out and let’s work on him.”

Together they lifted Pete out of the bath.

“Bring him into the passage. There’s no room to work in here,”

Conrad said.

They carried Pete into the passage and laid him face down on the floor. Conrad knelt astride him and began giving him artificial respiration.

Pete’s personal guards had come out of Pete’s bedroom and were standing, watching.

O’Brien leaned against the wall. The strength had gone out of his legs, and it was as much as he could do to stand upright.

Conrad worked steadily.

No one moved or spoke. Thunder continued to roll and rumble in the distance. The rain was falling less heavily now.

At the end of a quarter of an hour, Conrad sat back on his heels. His finger touched the artery in Pete’s neck. He shook his head.

“I’m afraid he’s gone. Here, Wilson, you take over. Keep at it. You other two relieve him.”

The guard came over and knelt astride Pete’s lifeless body. He continued the rhythmic pressure on Pete’s back.

Conrad went into the bathroom. O’Brien came to the door and watched him.

Conrad began a systematic search of the bathroom.

“There’s blood on the taps,” he said. “He must have slipped and caught his head, lost consciousness and went under.”

“Yeah,” O’Brien said. “The water was too hot.”

Conrad straightened and stared up at the window. The puzzled, searching expression in his eyes sent a chill up O’Brien’s spine.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded.

“I was wondering if he did faint in his bath. He might have been got at.”

“For Pete’s sake! How?”

“Yes — how?” Conrad said, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was no one hiding in here. If someone tried to get through the window Weiner would have had time to yell.” He turned quickly and stared at O’Brien. “I did think I heard him call out.”

“I didn’t; besides, no one could get through the window. It’s too small. Even a dwarf would have to struggle, and Weiner would have had time to come out.”

“Yes, I guess that’s right,” Conrad said after a moment’s thought. He went out into the passage again. “Any sign of life?” he asked Wilson, who shook his head.

“He’s gone, sir. The hot water in his lungs would have finished him quicker than anything.”

One of the guards brought a blanket and spread it over Pete’s body.

“Well, that’s that,” Conrad said in disgust. “After all the trouble we’ve taken to keep him safe from Maurer, he has to die accidentally.”

He heard a sound behind him and looked over his shoulder.

Frances’s door was open and she was standing in the doorway looking down at Pete.

“Is he dead?” she asked as Conrad went quickly to her.

“Yes, he’s dead. Go back to your room, please. There’s nothing you can do.”

There was an expression of stricken horror in her eyes that frightened Conrad. Every scrap of colour had left her face.

“How did it happen?”

“He fainted in his bath. The water was too hot.”

“Fainted in his bath?” she repeated slowly. “Are you trying to tell me it was an accident?”

“It was an accident all right. Now please go into your room.”

Madge came to the door and put her hand on Frances’s arm, but Frances stepped away from her. She continued to look at Conrad, her eyes glittering. ,

“That man murdered him! Pete said he would do it, and he’s done it! Pete knew he was going to die. He said one of you would sell him out! That’s how they got at him! He knew it was going to happen! He knew it!” She began to cry, tears running down her white face. “He said even you could sell him out!”

“You mustn’t talk like that!” Conrad said sharply. “It was an accident. No one could have got at him. Sergeant O’Brien and I were outside the door the whole time. No one could get in through the window. The water was too hot, he fainted and hit his head on the taps.”

She stared at him, her lips trembling.

“Do you really believe that?”

“That’s how it happened.”

“But it didn’t! He was murdered! You’re not going to let this man get away with it, are you? You can’t let him get away with it!”

“What man are you talking about?” Conrad said, a creepy sensation going up his spine.

“Maurer! Maurer did this! Pete said he was going to do it, and he’s done it!”

“Maurer didn’t kill Werner,” Conrad said patiently. “You’re just guessing. It was an accident.”

“But he did do it!”

“Now look, please go and lie down. You’re upset, and I understand that. You must leave this to us to handle. No one could possibly have got at Weiner. I’m sure of that.”

Frances stood for a long moment staring at Conrad, her fists clenched, and as he watched her, she seemed to grow older before his eyes, and her face hardened until he scarcely recognized her.

“I’m going to tell you something,” she said in a quiet fierce voice. “Maurer must pay for this. I don’t care now what happens to me. I’ll give the evidence you want. I did see Maurer at Dead End! He did murder June Arnot! I saw him do it!”

IV

Charles Forest and Captain McCann got out of the police car and ran up the steps to the verandah of the hunting lodge, their shoulders hunched against the rain.

Conrad came out to meet them.

The three men walked into the big lounge, and as McCann pulled off his raincoat, Conrad said. “She’s going to talk! We’ve got Maurer where we want him at last! She actually saw him do the job!”

McCann paused, his arm half in and half out of his coat, and he glared at Conrad. His fleshy face turned purple and his small eyes gleamed redly.

“Then why the hell hasn’t she talked before?” he snarled.

“It’s quite a story,” Conrad returned. “Before we go up, you’d better hear it.”

McCann threw his coat into an armchair and walked with a slow heavy tread to the fireplace. If this was true, he thought, then Maurer was finished. McCann didn’t kid himself that Maurer would go to the chair without blowing the lid off the organization, nor would he keep quiet about the money he had paid McCann in the past.

McCann was alarmed, and he had difficulty not to show it.

“Are you sure she isn’t lying?” he said, clenching his fists behind his back.

“Yes, I’m sure of that,” Conrad returned, “but you can judge for yourself when you hear what she has to say.”

Forest sat down and took out his cigar-case.

“Tell me about Weiner first,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell,” Conrad said. “It was damned bad luck. He had a bath tonight. O’Brien and I took him to the bathroom, and O’Brien thoroughly searched the room before Weiner went in. We waited outside. After twenty minutes I called Weiner to come out, but he didn’t answer. We found the door locked. We broke it down and found him drowned in the bath. The Doc said he had a superficial injury at the back of his head. He thinks Weiner got into the bath, came over faint, tipped back and banged his head on the taps.”

“People usually face the taps when they take a bath,” Forest pointed out.

“Yes, but apparently Weiner didn’t. Anyway, he was dead by the time we got him out, and there was nothing we could do for him.”

“Are you quite sure no one could have got at him, Paul? It seems odd to me that the door was locked.”

“It seems odd to me, too, but I’m certain no one could have got into the bathroom while he was in it. The window is much too small. It would take a dwarf a good ten minutes to wriggle through, and in that time Weiner could have raised the alarm. No, I’m positive it was an accident.”

“Hmm, this has shot a big hole in our case,” Forest said. “We needed corroboration, and Weiner could have given it to us.”

“Wait until you hear what Miss Coleman has to say. I think you’ll agree with me her evidence will stand up without corroboration.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” McCann growled. “You wanted to tell me something, Paul?” Forest asked, ignoring McCann.

“Yes.” Conrad lit a cigarette, went on, “You remember you suggested she was keeping quiet for a personal reason? You were right. She had a very personal reason for not admitting she saw Maurer, and now I’ve heard her story, I can’t say I entirely blame her for keeping quiet. She wanted to avoid the publicity. Her name’s not Coleman. She has a name known all over the world. Her father- was David Taleteller.”

Both Forest and McCann stared at Conrad.

“You mean the Boston vampire?” Forest said, and Conrad could see how shocked he was.

“Yes, that’s the man. I don’t suppose there is anyone who has read the papers who doesn’t know about Taleteller, and hasn’t been revolted by his ghastly child murders. You will remember he was finally caught in the act and lynched by an infuriated mob who wrecked his house, killed his wife and very nearly laid hands on his daughter. And that daughter is Frances Coleman. Now do you understand why she had a horror of being dragged into the limelight? She has successfully hidden her real identity and has started a new life for herself. For the past six years she has been living as Frances Coleman, and up to the time she called on June Arnot she believed she had hidden her real identity for good. Then June Arnot was murdered, and Frances actually saw the murder committed. She realized that if she gave evidence the press would quickly find out who she was, and once more she would be faced by the horrible stigma of being the daughter of the most revolting killer of the century. She couldn’t face up to it, so she refused to admit she had seen Maurer, and I can’t blame her, can you?”

“Well, no,” Forest said slowly. “This is, of course, a very special case. But why has she changed her mind? You say she is now willing to give evidence?”

“Oh, yes, she’ll give evidence. She thinks Maurer killed Weiner and she doesn’t want him to get away with it.”

“And yet she was willing to let Maurer get away with June Arnot’s killing?” McCann snapped. “That doesn’t add up, does it?”

“June Arnot meant nothing to her, while Weiner did. Weiner saved her life, and his death shocked her. Personally I think she has been wavering for some days, and his death clinched it. It’s a psychological reaction.”

“Why does she imagine Maurer killed Weiner?” Forest asked sharply.

Conrad shrugged.

“I don’t know. Weiner told her Maurer would get him, and I guess she believes him. Nothing I can say will change her mind on that. She doesn’t pretend to know how Maurer got at Weiner, but she is absolutely certain he did get at him.”

“You’re quite sure he didn’t, Paul?” Forest asked quietly.

“I can’t be positive,” Conrad said irritably. “But I’ll be damned if I can see how he did it, if he did do it.”

“You’re both making Maurer a bogey man,” McCann snarled. “When are you going to see this girl?”

Conrad swung around, stung by McCann’s bullying tone.

“See here, Captain. I’ll have you remember she is a material witness, and as such is under the court’s protection. I’m not going to tolerate any police methods when we question her. You have been asked here as an interested party, but that gives you no right to get as tough as I imagine you think you’re going to get! So watch it!”

McCann’s eyes snapped and his face became swollen with pent-up fury.

“You can’t talk to me that way…” he began, when Forest interrupted.

“Yes, we can, Captain,” he said. “I support what Conrad’s just said. This girl’s an important witness, and I’m going to see she gets treated right.”

“She’s an accessory after the fact!” McCann said, controlling his temper with an effort. “And there’s nothing either of you can say that’ll make her anything else!”

“Oh, skip it,” Conrad said impatiently. “Let’s go up and talk to her. We want Maurer, and this girl can give us Maurer. That’s all there is to it. So get off your high horse and calm down.”

For a moment he thought McCann was going to take a swing at him, but McCann managed to control himself.

“Okay,” he said, biting off each word. “Let’s get at her!”

The three men went up the stairs to Frances’s room.

They found Frances, white-faced with dark shadows under her eyes, standing by the window. Madge Fielding was with her.

“Miss Coleman, this is the District Attorney,” Conrad said, “and this is PoliceCaptain McCann. They have come to hear your story. Gentlemen, this is Miss Coleman.”

Forest came over and smiled at Frances.

“Sit down, Miss Coleman,” he said. “I’m glad you’re going to help us. I want you to know I fully understand why you have hesitated to give us a statement before now, and I want you to know we shall do our best to protect you against publicity or any unpleasant consequences that may follow a trial.”

Frances didn’t meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, and sat down.

“You have no objection if your statement is taken down in writing?” Forest went on.

“Oh, no. I — I want it in writing.”

Conrad made a sign to Madge, who went over to the table, sat down, and opened a notebook she had ready.

“Go ahead,” Forest said to Conrad. “You handle it.”

Conrad came over to Frances.

“Just to get the record straight. Miss Coleman. You are Frances Coleman, and you have no fixed address at the moment, is that right?”

Frances looked up at him.

“Yes.”

“On the 9th of this month you went to see June Arnot?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you go and see her?”

“I was out of work,” Frances said, twisting her hands in her lap. I hadn’t any money. I once worked with Miss Arnot. I had a small part in one of her films. She was about to make another picture so I went to ask her if she could find a part for me.”

“And did she see you?”

“Yes.”

“What time did you arrive at Dead End?”

“It was a little before seven: about ten minutes to seven.”

“The guard sent you up to the house?”

“No. He phoned through to the house and they told him Miss Arnot was in the swimming-pool. He phoned through there, and Miss Arnot said I was to join her at the pool.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. It was a long walk from the gates, and it was a very hot evening. Miss Arnot saw how hot I was and she told me to have a swim first. She was in the pool, and she swam to the edge when she saw me. She said I’d find a costume in the changing room and I was to come into the pool.”

“And did you?”

“I — I didn’t have time to get to the pool. I went to the changing room and began to undress, then I heard Miss Arnot call out as if she were greeting someone.”

“What did you do?”

“I was undressed by this time. I didn’t do anything. I stayed in the dressing room, trying to find the costume Miss Arnot said was in one of the cupboards.”

“While you were looking for the costume, did you hear anything?”

Frances gave a little shiver.

“Yes. I heard a shot; it sounded some way off. Then after a minute or so, five or six more shots.”

“What did you do?”

“I stood listening, then I heard Miss Arnot scream out. It was a horrible sound. I grabbed up my dress and holding it to me I ran to the door of the changing room.”

“And did you see anything?”

Frances nodded. Her face was now white and strained.

“What did you see?”

“Miss Arnot was lying on the ground, near the pool, and a short, thick-set man in a black suit was bending over her. He wrenched off her swim-suit. In his right hand he was holding a knife: it was a broad-bladed thing, and it glittered in the sunshine. Miss Arnot seemed partially stunned. She was feebly trying to push his hand away. Before I could do anything, he — he stabbed her.”

“Did you cry out? Did you let him know you were there?”

Frances shook her head.

“Oh, no. I knew he had killed her. No one could have lived after the awful wound he gave her. It was horrible!” She looked away, her lips trembling. “I was paralysed with fear. I couldn’t move or make a sound. He straightened up and kicked her as she lay dying on the ground. I saw his face. I’ll never forget it. He

looked like a wild beast.”

Conrad took a packet of photographs from his pocket.

“Will you look through these and see if you can recognize the man who killed Miss Arnot?”

Her hands shaking, Frances took the photographs. She had only to turn two over before she found the picture of Maurer. She handed it to Conrad.

“This man.”

“All right,” Conrad put the photographs down. What happened next, Miss Coleman?”

“Another man joined him, and they both stood over Miss Arnot. I was terrified. I hid in a shower cabinet.”

“I would like to establish this other man’s identity,” Conrad said. “Would you look at those photographs again and see if you can recognize him?”

Frances went through the photographs. When she came to Toni Paretti’s photograph, she studied it for a brief moment, and then handed it to Conrad.

“That’s the man.”

“Well, fine,” Conrad said. “What happened when you were in the shower cabinet?”

The two men remained outside the changing room for several minutes, then I heard a splash as if they had thrown Miss Arnot’s body into the pool. Then the short thick-set man came into the changing room. His hands were covered with blood. I could see him through a gap in the curtain. He washed his hands, and all the time he hummed under his breath.” She suppressed a shiver. “It was the most cold-blooded sound I have ever heard.”

McCann couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Inwardly raging as he listened, realizing the deadliness of this girl’s story, he burst out, “That’s a fine piece of imagination! Do you know what I think of it? I think the whole story’s a damned he! I don’t believe you saw Maurer!” He leaned forward, his bull neck swelling with rage. “You’ve got a thing about Weiner, haven’t you? You fell for him, didn’t you? Just because he’s got a face that’d haunt a house you went soft on him. You’ve got a nutty idea Maurer killed Weiner. Okay, you want to take it out on Maurer, so you cooked up this yarn. That’s the way it goes, isn’t it?”

Conrad, his face flushing and his eyes snapping, started to say something, but stopped as Forest gave him a sign. Forest was looking at Frances, and Conrad looked at her too.

Far from being cowed by McCann’s shouting voice, she faced him angrily.

“I’m telling the truth!” she said fiercely.

“Yeah? Then why the hell didn’t you come out with this story before? You don’t kid me, and you wouldn’t kid a jury!

“You’ve got hot pants for Weiner, and you’re trying to get even with Maurer!”

Again Conrad started in to take Frances’s part, but again Forest stopped him.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Frances flared. “You sound very anxious to protect Maurer! Pete said there were policemen who’d sell him out. Were you the one who sold him out?”

If she had struck him across the face, McCann couldn’t have reacted more violently.

“By God!” he shouted, his face going blotchy. “You can’t talk to me like that, you little bitch!”

“That’s enough!” Forest snapped. “Watch your language, Captain! I’m sure Miss Coleman didn’t mean what she said.”

McCann clenched his fists, words refusing to come. He was badly rattled. This girl had got unpleasantly near the truth, and he realized he was to blame for trying to take Maurer’s part.

“I can prove what I’m saying,” Frances went on, turning to Forest. “I can prove every word!”

“How can you do that, Miss Coleman?”

“Maurer took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his face with it,” Frances said quietly. “As he did so, he flicked out a gold pencil. It fell on his shoe, and then rolled across the floor and went down a drain in one of the shower cabinets. Maurer tried to get it up, but he couldn’t reach it. This other man said they had to go, but Maurer said the pencil had his initials on it, and he had to get it. The other man said no one would ever see it down there, and there was no way of recovering it. Maurer finally agreed to leave it.” She turned to look at McCann who was standing stiff and motionless. There was blood on Maurer’s shoe,” she went on, “and some of the blood got on to the pencil. You have only to get the pencil, prove the blood belongs to Miss Arnot, and then perhaps you’ll believe I’m telling the truth!”

Conrad looked at Forest.

“Well, is that the corroboration you want?” He swung around and grinned at McCann. “She thought that one up entirely on her own. She’s quite a detective, isn’t she, Captain?”