doesn't like it Get away early."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I've got it!" he croaked triumphantly. "I finally got Althea to talk about it Listen, see if you don't get the point. We know the clock stopped at twenty after ten." He let go of her shoulders.
"Fran, I've got to tell you—"
"Not now. Wait. So the fuse blew at twenty after ten that morning. Now Althea says that Grandy came out of the study and was closing the door of it behind him at the very minute when the Phantom Chef fellow was on the air—the one who gives out recipes,
you know, Jane. She remembers something he said. Jane, it gives us the time! Don't you see?"
"I see. I think I do."
"The fellow said 'Burn tenderly.' Remember that. Two words. Write them down. They take records of those programs. They must have taken a record of this one. Pray they have. You've got to go to the radio station and find out. Maybe they took a record there. Or if they didn't, sometimes the client does. Find out who pays for that program. See if they took a recording. Try the advertising agency. Try everywhere. Find that record, Jane. And then make them let you listen. Make up a yarn, anything. Don't you see? If you can
listen, and time the thing, and spot the very minute when he said, 'Burn tenderly' —“
"Un-huh," said Jane. "Uh-huh."
"That'll be the proof we're looking for. Proof! If the time is different from what I expect, then we're all wrong, and we'll know it. Jane, we can't be wrong. And if those words were said on the air that morning any time—even seconds—after twenty after ten, then we've got him! Got enough to go to the police. Because that would mean she was dead—" He drew away in the dark. "Oh, God, Jane, she kicked that lamp over while she was dying, and he stood there watching her!"
Jane said, in a minute, grimly, "That'll do it"
"Yes," he repeated wearily, "that'll do it."
"HI go into town. I'll find out." She might have been taking
her oath.
"Yes, you go in." He wished the night were over. He wished it
were morning.
Jane said, "Fran, Gahagen was here."
"What?"
"Yes, and I—"
"What did he want?"
"He was asking all about the clock. He looked at the fuses too."
Francis groaned. "Did he say how the police came to be wondering about that?"
"No, he didn't say. But I think he knew, all right."
Francis groaned again. "The old man is keen. Damn! Why did this have to happen tonight?"
"How do you suppose Gahagen knew that you were the man on the telephone?"
"They could have traced the call. I couldn't help it. I had to check; had to know whether the police had found a blown fuse or noticed—"
"They never would have noticed," said Jane loyally. "You found the newspaper picture with the wrong time on the clock."
"But I wish Gahagen hadn't shown up tonight"
"Fran, what's the difference? We've got it now. All we have to do is check."
"Yes," he said.
They were whispering in the lee of a great mock orange. The night was still around them. Chilly. Francis shivered. His scalp crawled. He wished it were morning and Jane on her way.
"Fran, tell me." She clutched at his arm. "What about Mathilda? What happened?"
"Mathilda doesn't matter," he said desperately.
"But what did you tell Grandy? What did he say?"
"I told him she was balmy. He—I don't know. I imagine he's wondering, right now, what I'm up to."
"You don't think he believed you?"
"No, I don't think he believed me," said Francis bitterly. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. I think he doesn't understand and he's lying low. I hope he doesn't get his mind clear until tomorrow."
"Poor Mathilda," breathed Jane.
"Tough on her," he admitted. He could tell Jane. "But, honey, what could I do? Go on trying to tell her that old precious is what he is? And have her run to him with all we've got, so far? So he could block any move we'd try to make? Don't think he couldn't. Or could I bow out and say, 'That's right, ma'am. I'm lying. Must have had a brainstorm. So long.' And leave the job unfinished? When we were so close? I couldn't do a thing, Jane, but what I did. I felt like a heel."
"She must have been staggered."
"She's got a lot of fight; she can take it. She's got to! A few confusing days. Jane, how the old mat's got those girls under his spell! Svengali business. I don't like it. He's had Mathilda thinking she's a poor little unattractive dumb bunny for years and years."
"She's not," said Jane dryly.
"She's certainly one of the most beautiful creatures—" said Francis irritably. "But no, she'll take his word for it! I don't think she knows, herself, what she is, or ever will know until she gets away from him."
"So if we get him, she'll be free."
"Yes," he said. "That's the only way I can look at it."
There was a slam of sound. Somebody had slammed the back door. They froze in the shadows and turned their faces furtively. Someone with a flashlight went around to the garage. The overhead doors rolled up. In a moment or two, they heard a car start. It was
Oliver's. It plunged down the drive and they heard the gears clash, as if the hand that shifted was in a mood for bangs and clashes.
"Oliver?"
"But what—where's he going?"
"Hell for leather. I don't know." Francis took a step as if he would follow and see.
"He was simply furious with Althea. They must have had a fight."
"Quite a fight," said Francis.
The car's noises died away, leaving the night to its old chilly quiet. Jane shivered this time. "Better get back." She turned to look at the quiet house that had just erupted and spit out an angry man, and now lay biding its time, to explode again with some evil or
other.
"Yes, you'd better," said Francis with sudden urgency. "Look here, we forgot something. Grandy may not know about the radio voice, but he does know one thing. I should have seen that. He knows the icebox light went out when the fuse blew. He knows, because
Althea told him. That's what tipped him off, in the middle of the morning, that a fuse had been blown. He trotted right down cellar and fixed it. Now, she didn't see the light go out—"
“If it was out," said Jane. "And if it was really Rosaleen's death that put it out, Fran, haven't we got proof already? Can't we use that? Use it now, tonight?"
"No, because it might have been the bulb burning out, after all," said Francis wearily. "He'd wiggle out that way. Jane, I—"
"What's the matter?"
"God knows what hell do!"
She trembled. "What?"
"I hate to ask you to lose sleep when you have so much to do tomorrow. Jane, watch Althea's door."
"Watch?"
"Because Oliver's gone," said Francis. "Oliver isn't there. She's alone. And Gahagens tipped off Grandy. Get into the house, Jane. It s not—I don't think it's safe."
"You don't think he'd— Not Althea!"
"No?" said Francis. "Rosaleen was young and pretty, wasn't she?"
Jane said, "Oh, Fran!"
“If you see anyone," he told her, "flash your lights, I'll be around."
As one, they turned and almost ran into the darkness to the kitchen porch. He boosted her up the trellis. Mathilda's window was dimly lit. The house stood whitely over Francis. The night, he thought, was getting colder.