those words were said on the air that morning any time—even seconds—after twenty after ten, then we've got him! Got enough to go to the police. Because that would mean she was dead—" He drew away in the dark. "Oh, God, Jane, she kicked that lamp over while she was dying, and he stood there watching her!"
Jane said, in a minute, grimly, "That'll do it"
"Yes," he repeated wearily, "that'll do it."
"HI go into town. I'll find out." She might have been taking
her oath.
"Yes, you go in." He wished the night were over. He wished it
were morning.
Jane said, "Fran, Gahagen was here."
"What?"
"Yes, and I—"
"What did he want?"
"He was asking all about the clock. He looked at the fuses too."
Francis groaned. "Did he say how the police came to be wondering about that?"
"No, he didn't say. But I think he knew, all right."
Francis groaned again. "The old man is keen. Damn! Why did this have to happen tonight?"
"How do you suppose Gahagen knew that you were the man on the telephone?"
"They could have traced the call. I couldn't help it. I had to check; had to know whether the police had found a blown fuse or noticed—"
"They never would have noticed," said Jane loyally. "You found the newspaper picture with the wrong time on the clock."
"But I wish Gahagen hadn't shown up tonight"
"Fran, what's the difference? We've got it now. All we have to do is check."
"Yes," he said.
They were whispering in the lee of a great mock orange. The night was still around them. Chilly. Francis shivered. His scalp crawled. He wished it were morning and Jane on her way.
"Fran, tell me." She clutched at his arm. "What about Mathilda? What happened?"
"Mathilda doesn't matter," he said desperately.
"But what did you tell Grandy? What did he say?"
"I told him she was balmy. He—I don't know. I imagine he's wondering, right now, what I'm up to."
"You don't think he believed you?"
"No, I don't think he believed me," said Francis bitterly. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. I think he doesn't understand and he's lying low. I hope he doesn't get his mind clear until tomorrow."
"Poor Mathilda," breathed Jane.
"Tough on her," he admitted. He could tell Jane. "But, honey, what could I do? Go on trying to tell her that old precious is what he is? And have her run to him with all we've got, so far? So he could block any move we'd try to make? Don't think he couldn't. Or could I bow out and say, 'That's right, ma'am. I'm lying. Must have had a brainstorm. So long.' And leave the job unfinished? When we were so close? I couldn't do a thing, Jane, but what I did. I felt like a heel."
"She must have been staggered."
"She's got a lot of fight; she can take it. She's got to! A few confusing days. Jane, how the old mat's got those girls under his spell! Svengali business. I don't like it. He's had Mathilda thinking she's a poor little unattractive dumb bunny for years and years."
"She's not," said Jane dryly.
"She's certainly one of the most beautiful creatures—" said Francis irritably. "But no, she'll take his word for it! I don't think she knows, herself, what she is, or ever will know until she gets away from him."
"So if we get him, she'll be free."
"Yes," he said. "That's the only way I can look at it."
There was a slam of sound. Somebody had slammed the back door. They froze in the shadows and turned their faces furtively. Someone with a flashlight went around to the garage. The overhead doors rolled up. In a moment or two, they heard a car start. It was
Oliver's. It plunged down the drive and they heard the gears clash, as if the hand that shifted was in a mood for bangs and clashes.
"Oliver?"
"But what—where's he going?"
"Hell for leather. I don't know." Francis took a step as if he would follow and see.
"He was simply furious with Althea. They must have had a
Jane said, in a minute, grimly, "That'll do it"
"Yes," he repeated wearily, "that'll do it."
"HI go into town. I'll find out." She might have been taking
her oath.
"Yes, you go in." He wished the night were over. He wished it
were morning.
Jane said, "Fran, Gahagen was here."
"What?"
"Yes, and I—"
"What did he want?"
"He was asking all about the clock. He looked at the fuses too."
Francis groaned. "Did he say how the police came to be wondering about that?"
"No, he didn't say. But I think he knew, all right."
Francis groaned again. "The old man is keen. Damn! Why did this have to happen tonight?"
"How do you suppose Gahagen knew that you were the man on the telephone?"
"They could have traced the call. I couldn't help it. I had to check; had to know whether the police had found a blown fuse or noticed—"
"They never would have noticed," said Jane loyally. "You found the newspaper picture with the wrong time on the clock."
"But I wish Gahagen hadn't shown up tonight"
"Fran, what's the difference? We've got it now. All we have to do is check."
"Yes," he said.
They were whispering in the lee of a great mock orange. The night was still around them. Chilly. Francis shivered. His scalp crawled. He wished it were morning and Jane on her way.
"Fran, tell me." She clutched at his arm. "What about Mathilda? What happened?"
"Mathilda doesn't matter," he said desperately.
"But what did you tell Grandy? What did he say?"
"I told him she was balmy. He—I don't know. I imagine he's wondering, right now, what I'm up to."
"You don't think he believed you?"
"No, I don't think he believed me," said Francis bitterly. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. I think he doesn't understand and he's lying low. I hope he doesn't get his mind clear until tomorrow."
"Poor Mathilda," breathed Jane.
"Tough on her," he admitted. He could tell Jane. "But, honey, what could I do? Go on trying to tell her that old precious is what he is? And have her run to him with all we've got, so far? So he could block any move we'd try to make? Don't think he couldn't. Or could I bow out and say, 'That's right, ma'am. I'm lying. Must have had a brainstorm. So long.' And leave the job unfinished? When we were so close? I couldn't do a thing, Jane, but what I did. I felt like a heel."
"She must have been staggered."
"She's got a lot of fight; she can take it. She's got to! A few confusing days. Jane, how the old mat's got those girls under his spell! Svengali business. I don't like it. He's had Mathilda thinking she's a poor little unattractive dumb bunny for years and years."
"She's not," said Jane dryly.
"She's certainly one of the most beautiful creatures—" said Francis irritably. "But no, she'll take his word for it! I don't think she knows, herself, what she is, or ever will know until she gets away from him."
"So if we get him, she'll be free."
"Yes," he said. "That's the only way I can look at it."
There was a slam of sound. Somebody had slammed the back door. They froze in the shadows and turned their faces furtively. Someone with a flashlight went around to the garage. The overhead doors rolled up. In a moment or two, they heard a car start. It was
Oliver's. It plunged down the drive and they heard the gears clash, as if the hand that shifted was in a mood for bangs and clashes.
"Oliver?"
"But what—where's he going?"
"Hell for leather. I don't know." Francis took a step as if he would follow and see.
"He was simply furious with Althea. They must have had a
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