Terry laughed. “I thought you wanted me to explain to him the different capacities in which you called.”
Malloy jerked open the door, surveyed the empty bedroom without surprise. “I’ll take a look around,” he announced, and proceeded to make a complete search of the place, while Terry, standing at the window, noticed the men who were stationed at various points of vantage about the sidewalk, and heard the tramp of feet in the corridor.
Malloy had quite evidently taken over some adjoining apartment as field headquarters. The wire from the dictograph must run into that apartment, and Malloy had been holding enough men there to “sew up the place” whenever the occasion might demand.
As it was gradually forced home upon Malloy’s consciousness that the bird had flown the cage he had so carefully constructed, his face darkened, but he still kept his genial manner.
“Now is there any possible means of getting in or out of this apartment that you haven’t shown me, Clane?” he asked. “You know, in solving a theft, it’s important to figure out just how the thief came in, and just how he went out.”
Terry, knowing the real reason for the question, achieved an inward chuckle as he said, with a perfectly serious countenance, “No, Inspector, there’s no way of getting in or out that you haven’t seen.”
Malloy frowned. “Funny about that Renton woman last night,” he said. “She certainly pulled a rabbit-in-the-hat trick on us, didn’t she?”
“Rabbit-in-the-hat?” Terry asked.
“You know what I mean. We thought she was here. We frisked the place and she wasn’t here. We went out, and there she was, right in your bedroom.”
“Did you really think she was here?” Terry asked. “I thought you were searching for the portrait, and Stubby Nash was the one who thought she was here. As it happens, she came in shortly after you went out, Inspector.”
Malloy’s eyes stared with disconcerting steadiness. “I hadn’t gone far,” he said.
“Perhaps,” Terry told him, with unsmiling gravity, “she didn’t have far to come.”
Malloy said, “I’ll just take another look in that bedroom of yours, if you don’t mind, Clane. There may be a secret exit there you don’t know anything about.”
“Exit?” Terry asked. “You mean an entrance, don’t you?”
“Same thing,” Malloy said, and strode into the bedroom, where he put in a full half-hour pounding and thumping the walls. At the end of that time, very embarrassed and angry beneath the veneer of his genial friendliness, he left the apartment.
Terry frowningly considered the situation.
Malloy wasn’t ready to spring his trap until he knew it would catch someone other than Terry Clane. He was sure of Clane, and could get him at any time. He had wanted the Chinese girl whom he had heard confess to the murder, but he wasn’t as yet ready to show his hand and admit that he had overheard that confession. He wanted to get the girl first, and, since she had eluded him, he intended to keep that dictograph under cover, hoping to enmesh Terry still further.
But Sou Ha had given Malloy plenty of material to work on. She had let it out that Terry not only knew Juanita, but had gone to call on her; moreover, she had accused him of calling once more upon Mandra’s widow, between seven o’clock and midnight! And Malloy knew that Mandra’s portrait had been stolen between those hours.
Terry might have managed to slip Sou Ha through Malloy’s clutches, but it wouldn’t take Malloy long to get busy on the leads the Chinese girl had given. And Inspector Malloy, regardless of how big a nuisance he might be, was most certainly nobody’s fool.
14
C. Renmore Howland maintained an impressive suite of offices. Stenographers clattered away at busy typewriters. Clerks bustled importantly about. Howland, occupying an inner shrine, which could be reached only after passing two formidable secretaries, consented to see Terry Clane, after the manner of royalty conferring a favor upon a fortunate suppliant.
His voice was unctuously smooth.
“Miss Renton spoke of you to me. She said she knew you would stand by her and do everything in your power. You have, I believe, a legal education, Mr. Clane?”
Terry nodded, noticing the lawyer’s long neck and bony features. He thought of Cynthia’s remarks that the man should have been a racehorse.
Howland consulted his wrist-watch and said, “The other witnesses will be here within a quarter of an hour. I believe you wish to talk with me before their arrival?”
“Yes,” Terry said, “I have some news for you, and it isn’t very pleasant news. I’m afraid it’s going to affect Cynthia’s case.”
Howland raised inquiring eyebrows, while Terry went on, “You see, Cynthia’s alibi will hold water for a while, and then it will blow up with a bang. It was an alibi which looked genuine at first. That’s why the police turned her loose. Then they uncovered other evidence... Frankly, they discovered the widow of Jacob Mandra who swore that she was the one who had left Mandra’s apartment at two in the morning, carrying the portrait. She was the one the witness met on the stairs. So far, she hasn’t been able to produce the portrait she was carrying, but...”
The lawyer’s horse face broke into a big-toothed grin. “Now, don’t let that disturb you in the least, Mr. Clane. I knew it would be only a matter of time until the police would uncover that original portrait; and I’ve already discounted that fact. Cynthia has told me her entire story. Thanks to her interview with you, she realized the necessity for telling me the truth. I have all of the facts in my possession.”
“Well,” Terry said, “here’s one fact you didn’t have. That original portrait vanished from Juanita Mandra’s apartment between seven o’clock and midnight last night. So far, the police haven’t been able to find the portrait or figure out how it was taken. Owing to the fact that Inspector Malloy placed a dictograph in my apartment, he was able to overhear some conversation which gave him some very definite clues. I have every reason to believe he’ll not only find that original portrait, but will unearth evidence which will connect me with its theft.”
The big teeth vanished as the lawyer pursed his lips. “Well, now, that’s something new. That makes things look pretty black.”
“For Cynthia?” Terry asked.
“No, for you.”
“It won’t hurt Cynthia’s case?”
Howland said impressively, “Mr. Clane, Cynthia hasn’t talked too much. Whenever I can contact my clients early enough, it is almost impossible to convict them. Remember, the state has to prove its case beyond all reasonable doubt. That gives the defendant a wide margin.”
“Just what are you getting at?” Terry asked.
“If the situation develops along certain lines,” Howland said, watching him keenly, “I might intimate to the newspapers that you were the one who had killed Mandra. The fact that the murder was committed with your sleeve gun, the fact that you stole the portrait from Juanita... Oh, I could make up a very convincing argument. What would be your attitude on that?”
“It’s okay by me,” Terry said, “if it will save Cynthia.”
Howland scowled, then said slowly, “No. Now that I come to consider the facts more carefully, I can see that it won’t do. The reading public would realize you had stolen that portrait to protect Cynthia. For me, as her lawyer, to make a suggestion of that sort would be to alienate the sympathies of the newspaper readers — and the sympathies of the newspaper readers are very important. Perhaps you have noticed how infrequently an attractive young woman is convicted of crime, Mr. Clane?”