“You speak as though your opinion might be based upon some experience of your own.” Andrew’s statement was direct. Fanchon met it with an excellent reply.
“If I speak in that fashion,” said the girl, “it is only because you influenced my statement. You have spoken as though you, yourself, had met with an experience like that of the young man.” Andrew laughed.
“Something happened to me later,” he remarked. “Something that could have occurred to the recipient of the box. That was why I pictured the story further.”
“Something happened?” Fanchon’s tone was uneasy. “Something that concerned you?”
“Certainly. You have read the newspapers, haven’t you?”
“You mean last night?” Fanchon’s tone was breathless, “that terrible experience that you encountered? I read about it this afternoon and called up Mr. Bodwin to ask him if you were all right.”
“I was with him when you called.”
Fanchon hesitated a moment; then looked away. She spoke; her voice was tense.
“I begin to understand your story,” she said. “If you had been that man; if you had received the money; if you had found the girl; and if —”
She stopped. Her face was firm.
“If you had spent some of the money,” she declared, “and men had come here afterward, to take your wealth from you, it would make you believe that the girl was the one to blame.”
Andrew gazed straight ahead, not noting the girl’s expression. He was leaving that to Harry; and The Shadow’s agent could see that Fanchon, despite her feigned composure, was counting much on Andrew’s reply.
“I would not blame the girl,” stated Andrew, with a shake of his head. “I would leave the question open, until I met her.”
“But if you did not find her?”
“Then, I would look for someone who would understand. Some other girl, perhaps, who could answer for her. One who could picture herself as the girl in question, as plainly as I can see myself as the man.”
“And you think that I could speak for the girl?”
“As well as I could speak for the man.”
“Then I shall answer for her. I would say that the girl was innocent. That she had not known the trouble that she would cause.”
“But she must have known what the box contained.”
“No. You, yourself, conceded that point, Mr. Blouchet. Let us suppose that the girl was merely following instructions—”
“From whom?”
“From someone whom she trusted.”
“Then what would she do when she learned about the contents of the box?”
“She would talk to the person who had given her the box, in hope that he could explain matters to the man who had finally received it.”
ANDREW looked at Fanchon. The girl’s tone was sincere; her expression had steadied.
“First,” declared Fanchon, firmly, “the girl would have to talk to the person who had originally owned the box. She would have to tell him all that she had learned. That would be in fairness to a person whom she trusted.”
A new dance was beginning. Before Andrew could make another statement, Fanchon had risen. She stepped toward the dance floor. Andrew followed. Jerry Bodwin happened along ahead of him and asked Fanchon for the dance. Andrew strolled away beyond the palm tree. Harry stepped out to join him.
“She is the girl,” stated Andrew solemnly. “I believe her, Harry. She will tell me the true facts, later.”
“I think she will,” agreed Harry. “I watched her closely, Andrew. Her whole attitude was genuine.”
“I wanted your opinion, Harry. Not that I mistrusted Fanchon; but because I am not sure of myself. I have fallen in love with Fanchon. She may have realized it. It seemed a bad beginning to question her. And yet—”
“It was the only way, Andy. I believe that Fanchon cares for you. The best plan is for you to wait—”
Andrew interrupted suddenly. A sleek, dark-haired man had entered the apartment and was looking about, studying the dancers in anxious fashion.
“Carl Randon!” exclaimed Andrew. “Back from New York! Wait, Harry! I’ll bring him over here.”
Two minutes later, Andrew had introduced Carl to Harry, with explanations as to the part that Harry had played in last night’s fray. Carl spoke warmly.
“You did a lot, Vincent,” he said Harry. “I wish I had been here to help Andy, as you did. I read about the fight this morning. I hopped a plane and came on to see Andy.”
“From New York?” queried Andrew.
“No.” Andrew shook his head. “I had left New York for a trip west. I was in St. Louis when I read the news. Listen, Andy, I want to ask you something. Privately—”
Andrew nudged Carl into the next room and drew Harry along. Closing the door, Andrew told Carclass="underline"
“Harry knows the whole story. I had to tell him. He can listen while we talk.”
“What about the money?” queried Carl, anxiously. “Do you still have it?”
“I have other money,” replied Andrew. “Somehow, it was mysteriously changed. The whole case is baffling, Carl. But I have found out something that may bring a complete solution.”
“What is that?”
“I have discovered the girl who gave me the money.”
“You have?” Carl’s tone was sharp and eager. “Who is she? Where is she?”
“Her name is Fanchon Callier. She is here tonight, with Jerry Bodwin.”
“You have talked to her?”
“Yes. Only enough to learn that someone gave her the ebony box. I wish you had been here, Carl. Harry was watching when I talked to her.”
Carl shook his head.
“I would like to talk to her myself,” he declared. “You are too imaginative, Andy. You do not have the practical angle. If I could only talk to her — alone—”
“A good idea, Carl,” interposed Andrew. “What is more, I can arrange it. Jerry Bodwin has no car; but you have. How soon can you get it?”
“It would take me half an hour. I left it out in a private garage, to save expense while I was away.”
“All right. I’ll introduce you to Fanchon. Talk to her and Jerry for a while; then, leave and get the car. When they are ready to go, offer to take them. Jerry is going back to the office; but Fanchon is going home. You can take her there.”
“A fine idea, Andy. Introduce me; I’ll leave in about fifteen minutes. Remember: I’m your closest friend. Emphasize that point. Then the girl may start to sound me out, when we are driving to her home.”
ANDREW and Carl went out into the living room. There was an interval in the dance. Harry saw them approach Jerry and Fanchon, who were seated across the room. From where he stood, Harry witnessed the introduction. He was wondering, if by some chance, Carl and Fanchon had met before. Apparently, they had not; yet Harry was not positive.
All had gone well tonight, up to the point of Carl Randon’s unexpected entry. From that moment, Harry had seen complications. He had reason to wonder whether or not Carl was a real friend of Andrew’s.
The fellow puzzled Harry. It was possible that Carl was playing a game of his own. Though chances were that if Carl might be acting in behalf of Andrew, there was a possibility that the opposite might be the case.
Just as with Fanchon Callier. She, too, seemed favorable toward Andrew, yet it was a certainty that she had played a part in an episode that had brought on trouble. Harry knew that it would be a mistake for Carl and Fanchon to gain opportunity for discussion between themselves.
Deep in doubt, Harry saw but one way out. Closing the door of the bedroom, he paced back and forth, his eye upon the telephone. A call to The Shadow. That was the answer. Harry knew where to reach his chief.
Alone, Harry was allowing himself five minutes for review, that he might present the facts concisely. He would make his call before Carl Randon went to get the car. The Shadow would have the facts in time for any action that he chose.