Nash lowered his eyes, said nothing.
The elevator came to a stop, and Inspector Malloy said, breezily:
“Well, here we are. After all, it’s just a formality. Come on, boys, and we’ll get it over with as quickly as possible and let Mr. Clane get some sleep... And why shouldn’t we search the place now, Nash?”
Stubby avoided his eyes.
“I wonder if you’re referring to the presence of some other person in Clane’s apartment,” Malloy said musingly, walking down the corridor, his hand on Nash’s elbow.
“I think, Inspector,” Clane remarked, “you’ve gone about far enough along that line. Suppose you show me the search warrant.”
“By all means,” Malloy agreed cordially. “Here it is, Clane. Just a formality, of course; but one of those little formalities which are sometimes so necessary. You’ll notice that it’s all in order. And there’s an endorsement that it may be served in the night time. Notice that, please. You see, I left Juanita Mandra’s apartment and went directly to a telephone. I called headquarters and told them to get a search warrant for your apartment. Then I went back to Mrs. Mandra’s place. She’s his widow, all right. She was married to him. Rather a bundle of emotions, that girl, but then, you wouldn’t know her. She’s a dancer... Well, well, here we are. Perhaps you’d better explain to that Chinese servant of yours that we’re free to go all through the place, Clane. Those Orientals are sometimes a little slow about understanding our laws, and I’d hate to have any misunderstanding. You see, these boys of mine are a little quick on the trigger... No, no, Nash, that’s just an expression... I didn’t mean they’d pull a gun, but they swing a wicked fist on occasions, and I’d hate to have any misunderstandings, particularly since Mr. Clane’s been so willing to co-operate with us all along.”
Terry didn’t open the door of the apartment, but rang the bell. When Yat T’oy answered the bell, Terry said to him, “These men alla-same policee men. Must come make search this place... Oh, hell, Inspector, I can’t explain it to him in English. I’ll have to tell him so he can understand...” And Terry, switching abruptly to Chinese, said, “Get the painter woman out of here, while I keep these men...”
He was able to say no more. Inspector Malloy pushed past him into the apartment, sending Yat T’oy spinning back against the wall. “Come on, boys,” Malloy said to the plainclothes men. “The warrant’s been served. You can go ahead explaining to the Chink while we make the search, Clane.”
Clane tried to reach the bedroom before the members of the searching party, but the men spread out as though they had carefully rehearsed every move. With ruthless efficiency, they ransacked the place, going through closets, trunks, files, peering behind pictures, in drawers, even moving out clothes from the closets.
Terry managed to enter the bedroom as the men were piling things on to his bed. The bed was freshly made. The pillows were smoothed into perfect mounds of unwrinkled white.
Inspector Malloy said to Stubby Nash, “How did you know Miss Renton was here?”
Clane interrupted the question. “I thought your warrant was to search for a portrait of Mandra, Inspector.”
“That’s right, Clane, that’s right. But, do you know, I had an idea we’d find Cynthia Renton here, and we want to question her. There’s nothing in the law which says you can’t find two things while you’re searching for one.”
Clane said hotly, “That’s a hell of a trick!”
“Now, now,” Malloy soothed, “your nerves are all ragged, Clane, I don’t blame you. You’ve had a hard day. But if you’ll just tell us where Miss Renton is... You see, I happen to know she’s here, and Nash knows it, too. She couldn’t have gone, and yet...”
He paused, frankly puzzled.
“The fire-escape,” one of the men suggested.
Malloy shook his head.
“A man’s watching it at the bottom. Another man’s watching the roof.”
“Did you,” Terry asked, as one who is mildly interested in the answer, “have any particular reason to think she’d be here?”
Malloy said nothing, but Stubby Nash said, “You damn well know she’s here. You’ve compromised her good name and spoiled her chances of getting out of this mess. Someone should punch you on the jaw.”
“Since you’re showing such remarkable powers of observation, not to say clairvoyance,” Terry suggested, “perhaps you can go further and supply the name of the person who should punch me on the jaw.”
Malloy, stepping between them, said, “That’ll do, boys! That’ll do.”
Stubby sneered. “That’s not going to stand in my way when I meet you again.”
“I should most certainly hope not,” Terry agreed.
Stubby turned wrathfully away.
Inspector Malloy fixed Terry Clane with forceful eyes. “Look here, Clane, you’ll admit Miss Renton was at your apartment earlier in the evening.”
“I’ll admit nothing.”
“But she was here.”
“Axe you certain?”
“Of course I’m certain.”
“Then why ask me to admit it?”
“Because I want to find out just where you stand.”
Terry shrugged his shoulders.
“You won’t admit it?”
“No.”
“You’ll deny it on your word of honor?”
Terry said with dignity, “If you’re quite finished, I think I’ll get some sleep.”
“We’re a long way from finished,” Malloy said, turning away. “Nash, you stay with me. I don’t want you two getting into a fight.”
“Is Nash, perhaps, one of your deputies?” Terry asked.
“What do you mean by that, Clane?”
“I mean that you’re here as an officer. Nash isn’t my guest. If you’re responsible for him, you’d better deputize him so I can hold you accountable for any damage he may do.”
Malloy frowned, then grinned at Stubby. “He’s got you there, Nash,” he admitted. “I’m afraid you’ll have to step out. Just wait outside in the corridor. I want to talk with you. No, no... he’s right, Nash. This is his apartment. Some other time you can say what you have to say to him. Not now. And, besides, I want to talk with you first.”
He escorted Stubby to the corridor and returned to the search. Thirty minutes later the men finished ransacking the apartment and acknowledged defeat. But Malloy refused to be shaken from his booming cordiality. “It’s too bad, Clane. I hated to do it. But you’ll remember I told you right at the start it was just a matter of form. It’s too bad you got mixed into the business in the first place... all over the theft of that gun, too! Well, good night!”
The men shuffled out into the corridor. Terry looked at Yat T’oy with raised eyebrows.
Yat Toy’s voice showed no emotion. “The woman,” he said in Cantonese, “climbed up the fire-escape.”
“Up the fire-escape!” Terry exclaimed.
Yat T’oy gravely nodded.
“And where the devil did she go after she went up the fire-escape?”
“I am but a servant,” Yat T’oy told him, “and these things are beyond me.”
Terry went to the fire-escape and looked out. It stretched down into the milky darkness, up into the swirling mist of moisture. He realized that the detectives must have made a similar inspection. The answer was beyond him. He still suspected Yat T’oy of having pulled a fast one, but the servant’s face was as blank as the front walls which camouflage the houses of Chinese millionaires.
Terry locked the door of his bedroom, donned his pajamas, turned out the lights, and was just getting into bed, when he sensed that some vaguely indistinct object was perched on the fire-escape outside of his window.