Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

“He said that would be likely,” remarked the older woman anxiously. “And he said to be sure to tell you that you had better be here to receive him.”

The young woman looked for a moment like a Diana at bay. Grady, who was looking through his peephole, thrilled at her beauty. Slowly she wilted, leaned across one corner of the dressing table, and bowed her head on one arm.

“Oh, my God!” she almost whispered. “Why doesn’t he leave me alone now?”

“I’ve noticed a peculiar change in you the past two weeks, Edna,” said the elderly lady sharply. “It isn’t becoming at all. What is there between you and Jim Rindawn that I do not share? Come, my dear, I insist on your confidence.”

“How I wish I might give it to you,” the girl murmured brokenly.

Miss Gilchrist came within the range of Grady’s vision and tenderly embraced her niece.

“There, now, my darling,” she soothed, kissing the pale brow and stroking the smooth young cheek which was uppermost. “Tell Aunt Eddie all about it, like you used to do when you were a child. Come, my child, tell me. Your old aunt isn’t too old and too decrepit to help you. What is the matter?”

“My dear, my dear,” sobbed the young woman, her lovely voice vibrant with anguish. “I... I can’t tell you. Really, it’s nothing — much. I’m just a silly girl, I think. Please—”

“And maybe I’m just a silly old woman,” cut in the other sharply, “but I can still see what is right under my eyes. You don’t mention Judge Lethrop to me as you formerly did. And to-day is the first time the name of Cecil Warner has passed your lips in I don’t know how long. Are you worried over the judge’s son? Are you interested in this — this Harry Lethrop?”

“Yes, yes,” cried the young woman. “That is it.”

“Then what has Jim Rindawn to do with it?” demanded the old lady crisply. “Answer me that!”

There was a silence.

“Very well, then,” said Miss Gilchrist with a toss of her head, “I shall most certainly be present when Mr. Rindawn calls.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” cried Edna feverishly. “I want you to be here. Stay close by me. Don’t leave me for an instant.”

“Never fear,” reassured the elderly woman grimly. “And I shall give Mr. Rindawn the severest tongue lashing he ever received in his sanctimonious life if he doesn’t explain a few things to me.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Aunt Eddie!” exclaimed the young lady anxiously. “Don’t... don’t say anything. Remember what he has done for us!”

“We are able to get along without him now,” sniffed Miss Gilchrist. “There is such a thing as imposing on people who are under obligations. But I won’t say anything to him if you—”

“There goes the dinner bell,” interrupted the girl quickly, hastily powdering her nose and wiping her eyes. “Come, let us go. Hurry, dear. We will talk again later.”

The girl hastened her aunt out into the corridor. The three police officers relaxed and gazed at each other in amazement. Burke very cautiously replugged the peepholes and locked the door of his room so a secret council of war could be held.

Brill exploded first.

“That was the woman who telephoned me!” he said vehemently. “I’d swear to it on a stack of Bibles higher than the Wrigley Tower. I tell you I’d know that voice anywhere. And it still has the same thrill. Gad! What an actress that woman would make!”

“Would make?” barked Grady curtly. “My dear chap, she is one! You should see her in her secretarial pose at Judge Lethrop’s office. No comparison.”

“Get hold of Chief MacCray,” hurried on Brill in tense excitement. “He wants this woman, I know. Burke, call him on the phone. Quick! Do something before she gets away. I tell you—”

“She’s not going anywhere except to the dinner table,” said Grady. “Pipe down, sergeant, pipe down. MacCray knows all about it already. Why do you imagine he had me drag you over here if not to identify that golden voice? Snap out of the stupor!”

Sergeant Brill merely stared, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. It was Grady’s turn next.

“What I am interested in,” he went on, his voice sharpening as he warmed to his subject, “is this fellow Rindawn. My fingers are itching to curl around his throat. Every way I turn he crops up in my path. He’s guilty as hell, and the chief won’t let me pull him.

“Why, here we come to check up on this young woman, and Rindawn crosses our trail even here. This is going to yield much that MacCray did not anticipate. They must hold that little get-together meeting in the next room where we can hear it. This is going to be the best break of the entire—”

“Rindawn?” spluttered Brill. “Who is he?”

“James Rindawn!” declared Grady vehemently. “John Duke’s butler! Alias the Beer-keg, alias Willis Gorms, alias Falstaff, alias the rich looking old gent who stole the murder gun from the Meadow’s store — one of the main crooks! And he is coming here to commit himself, sure as you’re born. Ye gods, what luck!”

“Sh-hhh!” cautioned Burke. “You are both too loud. Ease up on that talk. Unlock the door, Mr. Nickols, and we will resume our domino game. Our dinner will be here directly.”