“And you did?” Mason asked.
“That’s right. Mr. Rawlins was so nervous he was almost crazy. I finished the inventory and then just a short time ago took the panel out there. Mr. Staunton wasn’t home, but his wife was there and I told her I was from the pet store and that I had a new panel to insert in the fish tank, that it would only take a minute or two to put it in. She was very gracious and told me to come right on in. She said her husband had the fish tank in his study. That he was out and wouldn’t be back for awhile and that it would probably be better if I put the panel in, as she didn’t want to take the responsibility.”
“So you went on in with the panel?” Mason asked.
“That’s right, and when I got in the study I found the tank contained a pair of Veiltail Moor Telescopes!”
“What did you do?”
“For a moment I was too flabbergasted to do anything.”
“Where was Mrs. Staunton?”
“Standing right beside me. She’d shown me into the study and was waiting for me to change the panel.”
“What did you do?”
“After a minute I just walked over to the tank, took the old panel out and slipped in the new one that was coated with Tom’s remedy. Then I tried to start talking about the fish. You know, saying they were very beautiful, asking whether Mr. Staunton had any other fish or not, and how long he’d had these.”
“What did his wife say?”
“She thought the fish were ugly, and said so. She told me that her husband picked them up somewhere, that he’d never dabbled around with fish before and didn’t know anything about them. She said that some friend had given him these two and that they hadn’t been well when he got them. That the friend was giving him specific instructions, telling him just what to do. She said that personally she’d have liked it a lot better if her husband had started out with just a couple of plain goldfish. That these were supposed to be extra fancy — that they gave her the creeps with their long, sweeping black fins and tails, their swivel eyes and the funereal color. She said that somehow they seemed symbolic of death. Well, of course, that wasn’t anything new because the fish have long been called ‘The Fish of Death,’ due to some ancient superstition and the peculiar appearance they have.”
“Then what?” Mason asked.
“Well, I hung around and talked with her for a minute and lied to her a little. I told her I’d been sick and that there’d been a lot of sickness at the store. I talked along those lines for a minute and then she told me that she had been sick last year but that she hadn’t even had so much as a headache since then — that she had taken some cold shots a year ago and started taking vitamins steadily, and that the combination seemed to have done wonders for her.”
“And then?” Mason asked.
“Then I realized what I was up against, and suddenly became afraid Mr. Staunton would come back and I’d run right slap into him. So I got out just as fast as I could. I’ve been terribly afraid that if he came home his wife would tell him what we were talking about, and about the questions I’d asked, and then he’d get rid of the fish, or do something.”
“What makes you think they were Faulkner’s fish?”
“Oh, I’m certain they were. They’re the same size and description and they were suffering from gill disease, although they’re pretty well cured now and, of course, Veiltail Moors, particularly Telescopes, are very rare and it’s inconceivable a man would start out with two fish like that, particularly if they were sick. And then, of course, there’s all those lies he told about his wife being sick. All the things he did to keep Mr. Rawlins from getting a look at the fish.”
“You’ve told Tom about this?” Mason asked.
“No, I’ve told no one. I got out of the house and went to your office and tried to get the night janitor to tell me where I could get in touch with you. He wouldn’t do it — said he didn’t know and then I was almost frantic. I remembered your secretary’s name was Della Street, but I couldn’t find her listed in the telephone book. Then I remembered you’d said Mr. Drake was the head of the Drake Detective Agency, so I looked him up in the book and found the number of his office. I called there and the night operator told me Mr. Drake was out but that he usually looked in at the office before he went home at night and that if he came in within the next hour they’d have him call me if I’d leave my number. I left my number but I also kept calling because I was afraid they might forget to give him the message.”
“And you haven’t told anyone about this?”
“No. I didn’t even tell Mr. Drake. I decided I wouldn’t tell him unless I had to in order to reach you.”
“You didn’t tell Tom Gridley?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Tom’s been terribly upset. He’s started running a high temperature every afternoon. You see, Mr. Faulkner has been exerting lots of pressure.”
“Did he stop payment on his check?”
“Not that exactly. He put it up to me in another way. He told me that the minute I cashed that check he’d have me arrested for obtaining money under false pretenses. He claims Tom developed the invention on Rawlins’ time and that the whole secret of the thing is a part of the business that he’s bought.”
“He really bought the business?”
“Oh yes. He paid Rawlins two thousand for the business, the stock and the good will, and made Rawlins agree to stay on and run it for a small salary. Rawlins hates him. I think everyone hates him, Mr. Mason. And yet the man is so self-righteous according to his own code. He thinks the law is the law, and business is business. I presume he really thinks that Tom is holding out on him, and that I was trying to hold him up — and I guess I was.”
“Has he made any offer by way of settlement?”
“Oh yes.”
“What?”
“Tom is to turn over his formula. I’m to surrender the five thousand dollar check. Tom is to agree to keep on working in the pet store for a year at his present salary and to turn over all subsequent treatments or inventions he may work out. In return for all that, Mr. Faulkner will pay Tom seven hundred and fifty dollars and keep paying him the same salary.”
“Generous, isn’t he?” Mason said. “No provision for Tom to take a lay-off for treatment?”
“No. That’s what makes me so angry. Another year in that pet store and Tom would be past all cure.”
“Doesn’t Faulkner take that into consideration?”
“Apparently not. He says Tom can get out in the sunshine on weekends, and that if Tom is too sick to work now, he doesn’t need to accept the proposition. He says Tom’s at liberty to quit work any time he wants to, that Tom’s health is Tom’s own personal problem and that it’s nothing to Faulkner. Faulkner says that if he went through life worrying about the health of his employees, he wouldn’t have any time left to devote to his own business. Oh, Mr. Mason, it’s men like that who make the world such a hard place for other men to live and work in!”