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"Yes" she said. "I think you're right, I think I'd do the same. If she loved Grayson she has to hate the one who killed him. But I don t think you should try to talk to her."

"What?"

"I think I should."

Jeff leaned forward, understanding every word but not yet believing her.

"Oh, now, wait a minute."

"I mean it"

About to scoff, Jeff realized how very serious she was and checked the impulse.

"Why?"

"Because I can do that just as wel as you can and with much less risk."

"Pardon me," Cordovez said,

Jeff looked at him,

"I believe the senorita is right."

"Thank you, Julio." Karen favored him with a quick bright smile and looked back at Jeff, her eyes challenging, her soft mouth determined. "I think I can tell better than you can if Mrs. Miranda was in love with Grayson. Ill find out if her husband has any canes. I'll bet I can make her show them to me. Why shouldn't I try?" she demanded. "It's not as if I was taking any great chance. 111 simply stop there in the morning after her husband has gone to the office and have a talk with her."

Jeff remained only partially convinced. He wanted to argue, but again he stopped. Not sure just why this girl should want to help him, he suddenly found a warm and satisfying glow in the knowledge that she felt that way.

"It is better," Cordovez said. "For you, daylight is bad except when absolutely necessary. Now that your photo-

graph has appeared In the newspaper there will be too many eyes looking for you."

Before Jeff could reply, Karen had leaned forward and taken the thimble from his fingers. She replaced it in her bag. She gave him a saucy grin as she leaned back.

"After all I am a detective/' she said. "Why shouldn't I work at it if I want to? I'm down here with expenses paid and I botched my assignment—"

Ton didn't botch it," Jeff protested. "It wasn't your fault my stepbrother got himself killed."

"I made a lot of trouble for you in Miami and it didn't do a bit of good. If I hadn t done that, none of this might have happened, I'm not sure 1 can help but I'm certainly going to try."

She stood up and smoothed the dress over her trim hips. She touched her dark hair and her eyes still defied him.

"Also, in case you're interested," she added, Tin turning in my card when I get home. I guess Dad was right. I'm not a very good detective and I've had about enough."

Cordovez rose along with Jeff and his dark glance was admiring as he inspected the girl

6S I will see that you get back to your hotel safely," he said. "Her suggestion is best," he said to Jeff. "I myself will see that no harm comes to her. You have my word." He touched Jeffs shoulder, his voice paternal.

"Do not wait for me. Go into the back room and close the door and go to bed. You need sleep. Tomorrow it will be better if you feel fit in case our luck turns and you have to face Ramon Zumeta."

Jeff argued no more. He glanced from one to the other and suddenly his worries seemed less burdensome as he realized for the first time how fortunate he was in having two friends such as these helping him.

IT WAS after nine when Jeff Lane waked the following morning, and because it was later than he thought, he jumped out of bed and stepped into the hall to see if Cor-dovez was still there. Certain now that he was alone, he came back to put on his borrowed trousers and shoes and then went into the bathroom to find the razor, towel, and brashless shaving cream that had been laid out for him.

When he came into the kitchen a note on the table said there was coffee on the stove which needed only to be heated, some fruit juice in the icebox. A paper napkin had been wrapped around a plate containing a sweet roll and butter, and the note invited him to use the eggs in the icebox if he desired.

He did not bother with the eggs, but he ate every crumb of the roll and drank two cups of coffee. He rinsed the dishes in hot water, and dried them, before he went back to the bedroom and completed his dressing. After that he began to prowl as the events of the night before came back to him and his nervousness increased. The few magazines in the living-room were in Spanish and when he sat down he found it impossible to remain there. He smoked his last cigarette and crumpled the pack and finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, he telephoned Cordovez's office. He had some language difficulty with the girl who answered but he finally got across the idea that he wanted the detective to call his house.

By that time he had begun to worry about Karen Holmes,

ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT

but as there was nothing he could do about this he tried to assess the information he had gathered the previous day. The patterns his brain formed were in ever-changing combinations and the only thing he could be sure of was that it took him twenty-one paces to get from the far end of the living-room to the back of the inner haH. When the telephone finally shattered the stillness, he Jumped for it.

"Where's Karen Holmes?" he demanded when Cor-dovez's familiar voice came to him.

"She is calling on Mrs. Miranda, as she promised/'

"Alone?" Jeff said, shouting a little. "But you said you'd go with her. 59

"I tried," Cordovez said. "She would not permit it. She insisted that she take a taxi. She did not wish Mrs. Miranda to know that anyone was waiting for her."

"How long ago was that?"

"Perhaps a half-hour."

"Where are you?"

"Across the street from Segnrnal I am awaiting the doctor's report. I should not be long. ... I think you worry needlessly, my friend/' he said. "The senorita will come to you when she has finished, Be patient. I will telephone when I have news/ 7

Jeff hung up and continued his pacing, his restlessness riding him even as he told himself that nothing could happen to Karen. There was another half-hour of this before he heard the knock., and when he opened the door and saw her standing there his relief left him momentarily speechless.

She was wearing a tailored yellow dress with black-and-white spectator pumps and the white handbag. Her cheeks were flushed, but the smile that came was weak and the dark-blue eyes seemed discouraged before she glanced away.

"Was it all right?" Jeff asked. "Did~you see her? There wasn't any trouble, was there?"

He heard her sigh as she lopped down on a chair and opened her bag. "I saw her/' she said, and took out a package of cigarettes. When she fumbled as she tried to open it he reached down and tore off one comer. He offered her one and took one for himself. He furnished a light, still watching her, but no longer hopeful when he realized her eyes were evading him.

"Can I bum a couple?" he said, indicating the cigarettes.

"Take them," she said. "I can get more!'

He sat down and watched her blow smoke toward the windows. He saw her breast rise and fall with another silent sigh. She took out the gold thimble which Jeff had hoped would turn out to be a ferrule and put it on his knee.

"I think you were right about one thing/* she said finally. "I think she was in love with your stepbrother/'

"What about the canes?"

"She said he had three that she knew of. She went and got them. They all had tips on them and anyway that one" —she pointed at his knee—"would have been too small around.*

Jeff swallowed his disappointment and put the thimble into his pocket.

^Well, that*s that," he said,

*Tm sorry.**

"We'll think of something else. 3 * He paused, studying her and noting again the long lashes that framed her eyes. "What did you think of her? I mean, was she pretty upset? Did you get the idea she'd help if she could?"

"Yes. She didn't want to talk at first. I had to tell her about you. 7 *

"Maybe she thinks I did it."

"Not now, she doesn't. I could tell she'd been crying, but

there were no tears while I was there. She'd gone beyond that. Right now she's bitter and resentful. The one thing in her mind is to make whoever did it pay. She's in a pretty bad mood; it's hard to tell what she might do."