testing.
"What you know won't be believed," he said. "Otherwise I'd be forced to kill both of you. And I'm taking your only proof with me."
He backed toward the exit, jumped through and slammed the door.
Instantly Jan was in motion, running toward the door. He flung it open and looked out. Slowly he came back across the room.
"He was gone," he said. "He must have vanished, because there wasn't time for him to get to the end of the hall."
"Put up your hands," the now familiar voice of the killer sounded from one corner of the room.
Jan and Paula turned in the direction of the voice.
The man advanced toward them cautiously, his gun trained on them.
"Turn around, Stevens," he ordered.
Jan slowly turned, his hands elevated as high as he could get them. The killer's free hand searched Jan's pockets swiftly and expertly.
"What did you do with it?" he demanded, his voice harsh.
"With what?" Jan asked, mystified. "You--"
"Drop that gun, Forbes," a new voice said.
The killer spun around and fired. The man across the room ducked to one side and ran along the wall, trying to get Jan and Paula out of his line of fire. He was wearing a brown uniform with a police badge on his chest.
The killer jumped to the door and flung it open, darting out. The uniformed man ran after him. Jan, lowering his hands, went to the door and looked out. He turned back into the laboratory.
"Gone," he said. "I wonder what he wanted this time? The police got everything except those papers he took." He frowned. "That man in uniform acted like a policeman. He had a badge. . . "
"I'm getting a headache," Paula said shakily, "Take me home, darling."
The phone rang. Jan carefully lifted the tip of the electric soldering iron from the maze of wires, small radio tubes, condensers, and case-covered units of the electronic device he was putting together.
He crossed the laboratory to the desk. Lifting the telephone receiver, he said, "Hello?"
"Jan!" It was Paula's voice exploding into a note of relief. "I just saw him!"
"The killer?" Jan said excitedly. "Where are you? I'll get the police and come right over."
"No, not the killer," Paula said. "Fred Stone."
"Fred Stone?" Jan echoed. "But you couldn't! He was killed."
"That's who I mean," Paula said. "I just saw him. He was standing on the corner. By the time I could get to where he was he was gone; but there wasn't any doubt. It was him!"
"Where are you now," Jan asked.
"Downstairs," Paula said. "I'm coming up."
"Wait!" Jan said. "I'll be right down. I want you to show me where you saw Fred Stone."
"No," Paula said. "I think he was looking for the address where your office is. You should stay there in case he calls."
There was a click at the other end. Jan hung up, looked around the laboratory, then went to the door and opened it to look out. He left the door partly ajar and went back to his soldering. A few moments later there were sharp clicks of heels from the hall. Paula came through the door, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Good morning, darling," she said, going up to Jan, placing her hands against his chest, and giving him a light kiss. When Jan tried to kiss her again she evaded him. "Wipe the lip-stick off," she said. "You may have callers."
"That's right," Jan said, taking out a handkerchief and rubbing his lips. "But Fred Stone-- huh-uh. You must have seen someone that just looks like him."
"I'd swear it was him," Paula said, becoming serious. "Remember, I saw him quite close. I couldn't mistake someone else for him."
"But you didn't see the man on the sidewalk close up?" Jan said.
"N-no." Paula hesitated. "But he was wearing the same clothes. Ordinary business suit, but if you remember it was cut a little peculiarly and a shade of gray I've never seen before. I couldn't be mistaken."
"We'll settle that right now," Jan said, grinning.
He went to the phone. In a few moments he was connected with his party.
"Hello," he said. "Trowbridge? This is Jan Stevens."
"Oh, hello, Mr.
"What you know won't be believed," he said. "Otherwise I'd be forced to kill both of you. And I'm taking your only proof with me."
He backed toward the exit, jumped through and slammed the door.
Instantly Jan was in motion, running toward the door. He flung it open and looked out. Slowly he came back across the room.
"He was gone," he said. "He must have vanished, because there wasn't time for him to get to the end of the hall."
"Put up your hands," the now familiar voice of the killer sounded from one corner of the room.
Jan and Paula turned in the direction of the voice.
The man advanced toward them cautiously, his gun trained on them.
"Turn around, Stevens," he ordered.
Jan slowly turned, his hands elevated as high as he could get them. The killer's free hand searched Jan's pockets swiftly and expertly.
"What did you do with it?" he demanded, his voice harsh.
"With what?" Jan asked, mystified. "You--"
"Drop that gun, Forbes," a new voice said.
The killer spun around and fired. The man across the room ducked to one side and ran along the wall, trying to get Jan and Paula out of his line of fire. He was wearing a brown uniform with a police badge on his chest.
The killer jumped to the door and flung it open, darting out. The uniformed man ran after him. Jan, lowering his hands, went to the door and looked out. He turned back into the laboratory.
"Gone," he said. "I wonder what he wanted this time? The police got everything except those papers he took." He frowned. "That man in uniform acted like a policeman. He had a badge. . . "
"I'm getting a headache," Paula said shakily, "Take me home, darling."
The phone rang. Jan carefully lifted the tip of the electric soldering iron from the maze of wires, small radio tubes, condensers, and case-covered units of the electronic device he was putting together.
He crossed the laboratory to the desk. Lifting the telephone receiver, he said, "Hello?"
"Jan!" It was Paula's voice exploding into a note of relief. "I just saw him!"
"The killer?" Jan said excitedly. "Where are you? I'll get the police and come right over."
"No, not the killer," Paula said. "Fred Stone."
"Fred Stone?" Jan echoed. "But you couldn't! He was killed."
"That's who I mean," Paula said. "I just saw him. He was standing on the corner. By the time I could get to where he was he was gone; but there wasn't any doubt. It was him!"
"Where are you now," Jan asked.
"Downstairs," Paula said. "I'm coming up."
"Wait!" Jan said. "I'll be right down. I want you to show me where you saw Fred Stone."
"No," Paula said. "I think he was looking for the address where your office is. You should stay there in case he calls."
There was a click at the other end. Jan hung up, looked around the laboratory, then went to the door and opened it to look out. He left the door partly ajar and went back to his soldering. A few moments later there were sharp clicks of heels from the hall. Paula came through the door, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Good morning, darling," she said, going up to Jan, placing her hands against his chest, and giving him a light kiss. When Jan tried to kiss her again she evaded him. "Wipe the lip-stick off," she said. "You may have callers."
"That's right," Jan said, taking out a handkerchief and rubbing his lips. "But Fred Stone-- huh-uh. You must have seen someone that just looks like him."
"I'd swear it was him," Paula said, becoming serious. "Remember, I saw him quite close. I couldn't mistake someone else for him."
"But you didn't see the man on the sidewalk close up?" Jan said.
"N-no." Paula hesitated. "But he was wearing the same clothes. Ordinary business suit, but if you remember it was cut a little peculiarly and a shade of gray I've never seen before. I couldn't be mistaken."
"We'll settle that right now," Jan said, grinning.
He went to the phone. In a few moments he was connected with his party.
"Hello," he said. "Trowbridge? This is Jan Stevens."
"Oh, hello, Mr.
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