“Gas mask! Why didn’t I think of that myself! It’s been as obvious as the nose on my face the whole time!”
Tears of happiness twinkled in her eyes.
“So she saved herself by using a gas mask.”
Yes, she told him.
“Did she put one on you, too?”
Yes.
“Very smart angle, there. It would have been too obvious if they’d let you go with him. Who’d she get them from, Haggard?”
Yes, she told him.
“Was he here that night, while it was taking place?”
No.
“Too smart, eh? Well, he’s an accessory just the same.” He hitched his chair a little closer to her. “Now, you want to see these people punished, of course, Mrs. Miller. He was your son.”
How needless was the yes she gave him. The flame of vengeance was a towering pillar of fire now.
“You know they killed your son, and now I know it too. But I’ve got to have stronger evidence than that. And what other evidence is there but those two gas masks? Everything depends on whether I can recover them or not. You had one on, and she removed it before outsiders arrived, obviously. You must have been conscious at least for a short while after she removed it. Did you see what she did with them?”
Yes.
Technically, she hadn’t, of course. But the answer was yes just the same, because she had heard beforehand what they intended doing with them.
“Swell,” he breathed fervently, balling a fist. “I suppose we’ll have a hard time getting it, but we’ll keep at it until we do. Am I tiring you?” he broke off to ask solicitously. “We’ve got plenty of time, you know. I don’t want to hurt you by all this excitement in one day.”
Tiring her! The flame of vengeance burned so high, so white, so tireless within her that she could have gone on for hours. No, she signaled.
“All right. About what was done with them afterwards. Let’s try a few short cuts. She hid them someplace in the house?”
No.
“I didn’t think she would. It would’ve been too chancy. She hid them someplace outside the house?”
Yes.
“Do you know where?”
Yes.
“But how could you? Excuse me. Let’s see. Under one of the porches?”
No.
“The garage?”
She refused to answer yes or no, afraid once more of sending him off on a wrong trail and being unable to correct it later. He might leave her and go out there and start tearing the garage apart.
“Not the garage then?”
She still refused to answer.
“The garage no answer, and not the garage, no answer either.” He got it. Thank heaven for creating smart young men. “The car?”
Yes.
“The one they’ve got now?”
No.
“They’ve bought that since. That’s down here in my notes. A former car then. Did you hear them discussing it afterwards? Is that how you know?”
No.
“You weren’t in a position to see it being done at the time, and you didn’t hear them talking it over afterwards. You must have heard them discussing it beforehand then.”
Yes.
His face lit up. “That explains the whole thing. How it is you’re so hep to what went on. That’s swell. Did they know you overheard them?”
She couldn’t afford to tell him the truth on that one. It might weaken his credulity. But she was convinced they hadn’t deviated in the slightest from the plan she had heard them shape in the kitchen that afternoon, anyhow. No, was her response.
“She doesn’t drive.” He’d learned that already, probably by watching them come and go. “He came and took the car away for her, then, with the masks still in it? That it?”
She didn’t answer.
“I see. He sent someone else up to get it, probably without taking him into their confidence. Therefore the masks must have been concealed in it, and he got them out at the other end without being observed.”
Yes.
“He owned a garage and repairshop, didn’t he, before his marriage?” He didn’t ask her that; just looked it up in his notes. “Yes, here it is. Ajax Garage and Service Station, Clifford Avenue. I’m going down there and look around thoroughly. There’s not much chance that those two masks haven’t been destroyed by now. But there is a chance, and a good one, that they were imperfectly destroyed. If I can just turn up sufficient remnants identifiable as having belonged to one or more gas masks, scraps of metal even, that’ll do the trick. You’ve told me all you can, Mrs. Miller, reconstructed the whole thing for me. The rest depends entirely on whether or not I can recover those two masks, intact or in fragments.” He put the jotted notes, and the pocket dictionary that had served them so well, back into his coat. “We may get the two of them yet, Mrs. Miller,” he promised softly, as he stood up.
The flame of vengeance roared rejoicingly in her own ears. Her eyes were on him meltingly. He seemed to understand what they were trying to say. But then who could have failed to understand, they were so eloquent?
“Don’t thank me,” he murmured deprecatingly. “It’s just part of my job.”
Two days went by. He was there to look after her as usual, so he must have been pursuing his investigations at night, after leaving the house, she figured. More than once, when he appeared in the mornings, he looked particularly tired, dozed there on the porch beside her, while her eyes fondly gave his sleeping face their blessing.
There is no hurry, take your time, my right arm, my sword of retribution, she encouraged him silently.
He didn’t tell her what success he was having, although the Haggards were out as much as ever and there was plenty of opportunity. It was hard to read his face, to tell whether he was being successful or not. Her eyes clung to him imploringly now, as much as they had ever clung to Vern Miller.
“You want to know, don’t you?” he said at last. “You’re eating your heart out waiting to find out, and it’d be cruel to keep you guessing any longer. Well — I haven’t had any luck so far. Their car’s still there in the garage, held for sale. I practically pulled it apart and put it together again, posing as a prospective buyer. Not while he was around, of course. They’re not in it any more. What’s more to the point, no one around the garage, no one of the employees, saw him take them out to dispose of them, or saw them at all. I’ve questioned them all; I haven’t any doubts left on that score. I’ve searched the garage from top to bottom, sifted ashes, refuse, debris, in every vacant lot for blocks around. I’ve examined the premises where Haggard lived before he moved in here. Not a sign of anything.”
He was walking restlessly back and forth between the veranda posts while he spoke.
“Damn the luck anyway!” he spat out. “Those things are bulky. They can’t just be made to vanish into thin air. Even if he used corrosive acid, nothing could disappear that thoroughly. He didn’t take them out over deep water, send them down to the bottom, because I’ve checked back on his movements thoroughly. He hasn’t been on any ferries or boats, or near any docks or bridges. Where did they come from, where did they go?”
He stopped short, looked at her. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that before? If I can’t find out where they went to, maybe I can find out where they came from. I may have better luck if I go at it the other way around. You don’t just pick up things like that at the five-and-ten. Did you hear him say where he got them from, when you heard them planning the thing?”
Yes, she answered eagerly.
“Did he buy them?”
No.
“Was he given them?”
No.
“Did he steal them?”
Yes.
“From a factory where they’re made?”