“Okay,” Moraine said, yawning. “Go ahead and find the documents, then.”
Duncan drummed nervously with his fingers on the edge of the desk.
“I’d have to question the witnesses,” he said, “that’s my duty.”
“Could you let me ask additional questions?”
“I might do that.”
“Say you will.”
Phil Duncan got to his feet, started pacing thoughtfully, whirled to face Moraine and then said, “Look here, Sam, you’ve got something up your sleeve; tell me what it is. Barney couldn’t have killed Dixon; he was with us when Dixon was killed. You couldn’t have- killed Dixon, but Natalie Rice could have killed Dixon. Her father could have killed Dixon. Barney Morden could have hired someone to kill Dixon.”
“And how about Thorne?” Moraine asked.
“Thorne, too, by God! I don’t know where Thorne was when that murder was committed, and Thorne would have committed murder to keep those papers from the Grand Jury. And remember that you re not in the clear either. If you sent Natalie Rice out to steal those papers and she killed Dixon while she was doing it, you’re both of you guilty of first degree murder. But you’re planning to pull a fast one — I don’t know what it is but I want to know before I walk into that Grand Jury room.”
“I can’t tell you,” Moraine said, “Because I don’t know, but I think I can find out if I question the witnesses. That’s why I’m making a bargain.”
“If you have those papers,” Duncan said slowly, “and if you aren’t bluffing, it’s going to put you in an awful spot.”
“What is?”
“Telling me where they are.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s going to tie you up with Dixon’s murder. It’s going to make it look black as the devil for you, Sam. Whoever murdered Dixon did it because of those papers. If you have those papers it means Natalie Rice or her father did the killing, and that means you were back of it either before the killing or afterwards.
“Under the law of this state, if you conspired to steal those papers from Dixon and a murder was committed in pulling off the job, you’re just as guilty of murder in the first degree as though you had been there and fired the shots. That’s the law of this state, Sam. I’m telling you that much. If it turns out that’s the case, I’m going to prosecute you, just the same as I would anyone else.”
“That,” Moraine said, “is the way I like to hear you talk. If you take that attitude and keep it you’re going to get the respect of every member of that Grand Jury.”
“Never mind about me,” Duncan rejoined, staring steadily at Sam Moraine; “I’m talking about you and about what it’s going to mean if you’ve got those papers.”
“I know what it’s going to mean, Phil.”
“And you’re still making that offer?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder,” Duncan said slowly, “if you’re bluffing.”
“Go ahead and call me and find out.”
“Why are you doing it?”
“Oh, for a variety of reasons. Perhaps to satisfy my flair for detective work. Perhaps to protect someone else.”
“You mean Natalie Rice?”
“Perhaps.”
Duncan said slowly, “Let’s not misunderstand each other, Sam. I can ask questions of the witnesses, and all you want is to question them after I finish. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
Duncan said slowly, “Sam, I’m going to call your bluff. I’ll take you up on that proposition.”
Moraine said tonelessly, “Have a man get in touch with the boys in the Post Office. Get a letter addressed to James Charles Fittmore, City, General Delivery. There’s a claim check in an envelope sent to that party c/o General Delivery. With that claim check, you can pick up the suitcase and bring it to the Grand Jury room.”
Duncan strode to the door.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Sam,” he said. “I’m going to prosecute you for first-degree murder.”
“But you’re going to let me question the witnesses?”
“Yes, I’m going to let you question the witnesses.”
Chapter Twenty
Eaton Driver, foreman of the Grand Jury, was a square-jawed, self-made man, who had fought his way up from the bottom, overcoming obstacles, building character and position by self-denial, thrift and foresight. It was an open secret that he was hostile to Phil Duncan and Carl Thorne and the machine that was represented by these men.
Now he stared at Phil Duncan with wary, watchful eyes.
“Do I understand,” he asked, “that you are going to make a full and fair disclosure of this Dixon case before the Grand Jury?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why Dixon was murdered?” Driver asked, his manner that of a man who is laying a trap.
Duncan met his eyes fairly.
“Yes,” he said, “Dixon was murdered because he had certain documents in his possession. Those documents were to be brought before this Jury. Those documents were politically important. They would undoubtedly have influenced the coming election. Because he was going to be a witness, and was going to produce those documents, Dixon was murdered.”
Surprise showed on Driver’s face. Then after a moment the mouth settled into lines of weariness.
“And I suppose,” he said, “you’re going to tell us that you have recovered those papers, and will introduce them in evidence, and the papers will be completely and utterly innocuous, a hand-culled selection of about one-tenth of one percent.”
Duncan met his eyes and said, “I know what you have reference to. I know that you must have had some intimation of the nature of the documents which were to be produced. I think I can guarantee that all of those documents will be produced.”
“All?” Driver asked, with a certain touch of sarcasm.
“All,” Duncan said, “including the documents reflecting upon the integrity of my office.”
Driver stared at him steadily.
“What are you trying to get at?” he asked.
“The truth.”
“What’s your price?”
“I haven’t any.”
“You’re expecting to be white-washed by this Grand Jury in return for selling out your accomplices?”
“I had no accomplices.”
“Your associates, then?”
“My associates sold me out. I had no knowledge of it. I have no first-hand knowledge of it at the present time, because I don’t know the nature of those documents, except in a general way. But I expect to find out. No matter what the evidence discloses, I intend to do my duty. I don’t expect to be continued in office. But while I am in office, I am going to discharge the obligations of that office.”
Driver ran the tips of his fingers along the angle of his jaw, stroking his chin meditatively.
“In order to get those documents,” Duncan said, “I had to make certain concessions. I want this Grand Jury to bear with me and assist in carrying out my part of the obligation.”
A look of relief came over Driver’s face.
“So that’s it. I knew there was a catch in it some place, but I couldn’t figure where.”
“No catch at all,” Duncan told him.
“What was the price?”
“I had to agree with one of the witnesses that he could examine other witnesses after I had finished with them.”
“Who is the witness?”
“Samuel Moraine.”
“Isn’t he connected with the commission of the crime?” Driver asked sharply.
“Gentlemen,” Duncan said, “make no mistake about it. Sam Moraine has been my friend. I am afraid, however, that the evidence which will be introduced before you may point to the conclusion either that Sam Moraine murdered Peter Dixon, or that the murder was committed by Natalie Rice, who is Sam Moraine’s secretary, or Alton G. Rice, the girl’s father, and Moraine was an accessory after the fact, or, perhaps, before the fact, and is now trying to shield those people.