Conrad had never seen the D.A. look so excited as he listened to Conrad’s story of the killing of Moe and the finding of Frances Coleman.
“Where’s the girl now?” Forest asked when Conrad had completed his tale.
“On the tenth floor, sir. Miss Fielding and a nurse are with her. Jackson and Norris are guarding the door. There are three police officers taking care of the elevator and the stairs. She’s safe enough for the time being.”
“Was she hurt?”
“More scared than hurt. She had a nasty cut on her arm from flying glass, but otherwise, apart from shock she’s all right.”
Forest rubbed his hands.
“When can you talk to her?”
“I’m waiting for the okay from Doc. Holmes. He said as soon as she has had a rest I can see her.”
“Fine. Now how about Weiner?”
“I don’t know how he slipped through the cordon. There was so much excitement cornering Gleb he was unfortunately overlooked. No one seems to have noticed him. Every man on the force is hunting for him now.”
“We’ve got to find him before Maurer’s mob does,” Forest said grimly. “If he talks, Paul, we’ve got that bunch just where we want them, and they know it. His life’s not worth a dime right now.”
Conrad nodded.
“We can’t do more than we’re doing now. It’s a question of time. He can’t get far with that birth-mark. The local radio station is broadcasting a description of him. They are interrupting programmes to ask for all information concerning him to be telephoned to us immediately.”
A buzzer sounded on Forest’s desk. He picked up the interoffice phone, listened, raised his eyebrows, grunted and hung up.
“Seems we have started something,” he said with evident satisfaction. “Maurer’s skipped. His yacht left two hours ago. He’s supposed to be on a fishing trip, destination unknown.”
“Putting himself out of our reach for the time being,” Conrad said. “Well, if we get the evidence we want, we’ll pick him up fast enough. Looks as if we’re on the right track at last, doesn’t it, sir?”
“If only this girl saw him!”
“We’ll know before long.” Conrad was controlling his own impatience with an effort. “Do you want to talk to her yourself?”
“Forest shook his head.
“You handle it, Paul. You have a lighter touch than I have. I don’t know why it is, but I seem to scare the pants off people when I talk to them.”
“Only if they happen to have a guilty conscience.” Conrad got to his feet. “I’ll have a written report for you by this afternoon. I may as well go upstairs and see what’s happening.”
“Let me know as soon as they pick up Weiner.”
“I will, sir.”
Conrad took the elevator to the tenth floor. Jackson and Norris sat on straightbacked chairs either side of a door at the far end of the passage. Both of them nursed Thompson guns. Conrad was leaving nothing to chance. He realized Frances could be a vitally important witness, and Maurer’s mob would stop at nothing to silence her.
“Any news yet?” he asked Jackson.
“Doc’s just gone, sir. All quiet here.”
Conrad rapped on the door which was opened by Madge.
“I was just going to call you. Doc, says you can talk to her now.”
“How is she?”
“A bit jumpy. I don’t wonder at it. She’s had a bad time.”
“Yes.”
“She’s in the far room,” Madge said. “Do you want me?”
“Not right now. If she’s ready to make a statement, I’ll call you.”
As he was speaking the nurse came out of the inner room and nodded to him.
“Don’t let her talk too much. She needs a good sleep.”
“I won’t keep her long,” Conrad said, and aware his heart was beginning to beat unevenly, he walked into the inner room.
Frances lay on a couch with a rug thrown over her. She was very pale, and her big dark eyes looked at Conrad with uneasy anxiety.
He was aware of a sudden tightening of his throat as he looked down at her. Her face in the photograph had fascinated him, and he realized with a sense of shock that he could be in love with her. It was fantastic, of course, as he hadn’t even spoken to her as yet, but the feeling was there, and for a moment he remained still, unable to collect his thoughts or to say anything.
She lay motionless, watching him, and he pulled himself together with an effort.
“I expect Miss Fielding told you I wanted to talk to you,” he said, and his voice was husky. “I’m Paul Conrad, special investigator to the District Attorney’s office. How are you feeling, Miss Coleman?”
“I — I’m all right, thank you,” she said in a small voice. “I want to go home.”
“We’ll fix all that in a little while,” he said soothingly. “There are a few questions I want to ask you first.” He pulled up a chair and sat down near her. “I’m not going to keep you long because the nurse said you should have some sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep. I just want to go home.”
“Have you any relations, Miss Coleman? Someone you would like me to get into touch with to let them know where you are?”
He saw a scared expression jump into her eyes, and she looked quickly away from him.
“I haven’t any relations.”
“No one at all?”
“No.”
He suddenly realized that this interview might not be as straightforward as he had imagined.
“Miss Coleman, I believe you called on Miss Arnot on the 9th, around seven o’clock.”
Her dark eyes flickered uneasily over his face, then moved away.
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you see Miss Arnot?”
“Yes.”
Conrad was aware now that the palms of his hands were moist and his heart was beginning to bang against his ribs.
“May I ask why you wanted to see her?”
“I — I would rather not say.” A faint flush rose to her face and she looked anxiously around the room as if she were trying to find a way of escape.
“Well I won’t press that question. You did see Miss Arnot?”
“Yes.”
“How long were you with her?”
“Oh, about five minutes. Not longer.”
“Do you know why I am asking these questions?” Conrad said gently, his eyes on her face.
“I — I suppose it’s because of Miss Arnot’s death.”
“That’s right: because of her murder.”
He saw her flinch, and bite her under-lip.
“What did you do when you left Miss Arnot?”
“Why, I came away.”
“Did you walk down the drive?”
“Yes.”
Conrad took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands. The next question would decide Maurer’s fate.
“While you were in the grounds of the estate, did you see anyone, apart from the guard or Miss Arnot?”
“I—I don’t think so.”
She was looking down at the pattern of the rug that covered her, and Conrad stared at her, a feeling of sick disappointment coming over him.
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
Why didn’t she look at him? he wondered. Could she be lying?
“Miss Coleman, this is vitally important. I want you to think carefully before you answer my next question. You know Miss Arnot has been murdered. She was killed on the 9th, a few minutes after seven o’clock: at the time you were there. We had hoped you might have seen the killer. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see anyone except the guard and Miss Arnot?”
There was a long pause. He noticed she was trembling under the rug and her hands had turned into small white knuckled fists.
“Yes,” she said at last.
“You mean you didn’t see anyone?”
“I didn’t see anyone.”
He looked down at his hands, his mind busy. If she had looked him in the face when she said she hadn’t seen anyone he would have instantly believed her, but the fact she couldn’t meet his eyes made him doubt whether she were telling the truth.
He studied her. She was still staring down at the rug, her hands still clenched into small tight fists.
“Did you arrive at Miss Arnot’s place by car?” he asked quietly.
She looked up, startled, and her eyes told him she was searching for a trap in the question.
“I — I walked.”
“It’s a long walk. It must be three miles from the boulevard.”
She flushed.
“I — I like walking.”
“Did you see anyone as you were coming from Dead End on the sea road? Anyone in a car, Miss Coleman?”
“No.”
“And yet that was the way the killer had to come,” he pointed out patiently. “There is no other approach to Dead End except by that road. It’s odd, isn’t it, that you were within a quarter of an hour of Miss Arnot’s murder and yet you didn’t see anyone?”
She didn’t say anything, but her face went whiter and she looked anxiously towards the door as if hoping someone would come in and stop his questioning.
In spite of the growing conviction that she wasn’t telling the truth, Conrad felt sorry for her and he had to force himself to continue to badger her.
“When you talked with Miss Arnot, did she give you any idea that she was expecting someone?” he asked.
He could see the girl was growing tense, and her trembling increased.
“I don’t know anything about it,” she said in a tight small voice. “Please stop asking me questions. I — I’m not feeling well. I want to go home.”
“That’s all right, Miss Coleman,” he said and smiled. “I’m sorry to be a nuisance. You have some sleep. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“But I don’t want to!” she cried fiercely. “I want to be left alone. I don’t want to go to sleep! I want to go home!”
“I’m afraid you will have to stay here until tomorrow,” Conrad said as gently as he could. “One of the gunmen who tried to shoot you is still at large. We can’t let you go until he is caught.”
“But he wouldn’t hurt me,” she blurted out, sitting bolt upright. “He said he wouldn’t and I believe him. This is just an excuse to keep me here! I’m not going to stay! You can’t keep me here! You’ve no right to keep me here!” Her voice was rising hysterically, and Conrad got to his feet, a little alarmed at the wild trapped look in her eyes.
The door opened and the nurse came in quickly.
“Perhaps you had better leave her to me,” she said, crossing the room.
Frances threw the rug off and struggled to her feet.
“I won’t stay here! You can’t make me stay!” she cried wildly, and took a few tottering steps to the door.
Conrad saw all trace of colour suddenly leave her face and her eyes rolled back. He jumped forward and caught her as she crumpled to the floor in a faint.