The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Staunton cleared his throat as though about to say something, then shifted his position uneasily in the swivel chair. The chair creaked slightly.

Mason didn’t so much as turn around, but stood for some thirty seconds in utter silence, looking out at the section of sidewalk which was visible through the window, waiting while his very silence exerted a pressure.

Abruptly the lawyer turned. “I guess that’s all,” he said to the surprised Sally Madison. “I think we can go now.”

A slightly bewildered Staunton followed them to the outer door. Twice he started to say something but each time the thoughts crystallized themselves into words preparatory to speech, they apparently seemed inadequate, and he choked off the sentence almost at the beginning.

Mason didn’t look around or make any comment.

At the front door, Staunton stood for a few moments watching his departing visitors. “Good night,” he ventured somewhat quaveringly.

“We may see you again,” Mason said ominously, and kept right on walking toward the parked car.

Staunton abruptly slammed the door shut.

Mason clasped his hand on Sally Madison’s arm, pushed her over to the right across a strip of lawn and toward the stretch of sidewalk which had been visible from the window of Staunton’s study.

“Let’s watch him carefully,” Mason said. “I purposely pulled the drapes to one side and left the telephone turned toward the window. We may be able to get some idea of the number that he dials by watching the motion of his hand. At least we can tell if it’s a number similar to that of Harrington Faulkner.”

They stood just outside of the oblong of light cast from the open window. From where they stood, they could clearly see the telephone and the fish in the tank on the top of the filing cases.

A shadow crossed the lighted oblong on the lawn, moved over toward the telephone, then stopped. The watchers saw James Staunton’s profile as he held his face close to the fish tank, watching the peculiar undulating motion of the black veils which hung down from the “Fish of Death.”

For what might have been a matter of five minutes, Staunton regarded the fish as though held with a fascination that was almost hypnotic — then he slowly turned away, his shadow moved back across the oblong, and a moment later the lights were switched off and the room left in darkness.

“Do you suppose he knew we were watching?” Sally Madison asked.

Mason remained there watching and waiting for nearly five minutes, then he circled her with his arm, guided her toward the parked automobile.

“Did he?” she asked.

“What?” the lawyer asked, his voice showing his preoccupation.

“Know that we were watching?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you thought he was going to telephone?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he?”

Mason said, “I’ll be damned if I know.”

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“Now,” Mason said, “we go to see Mr. Harrington Faulkner.”

6

Mason escorted Sally Madison up the walk which led to Harrington Faulkner’s duplex house. Both sides of the building were in the sedate midnight darkness of a respectable house in the residential district.

“They’re asleep,” Sally Madison whispered. “They’ve gone to bed.”

“All right. We’ll get them up.”

“Oh, Mr. Mason, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Faulkner will be furious.”

“So what?”

“He can be very annoying and disagreeable when he’s angry.”

Mason said, “The man who handles his insurance has stated to both of us that Faulkner brought him those fish on Wednesday night. Some time after that, if this man’s story is true, Faulkner made a great to do about finding the fish gone from the aquarium where they’d been placed. He called the police and made false statements to the police. Under the circumstances, he’s hardly in a position to explode with righteous indignation.”

Holding her arm, Mason could feel her shiver with apprehension. “You’re — different,” she said. “You don’t let these people frighten you when they get angry. They absolutely terrify me.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t like anger and fights and angry scenes.”

“You’ll get accustomed to them before we go very much farther,” Mason said, and jabbed his finger with insistence against the bell button.

They could hear the chimes sounding melodiously from the interior of the house. There followed an interval of some fifteen seconds while Mason and Sally Madison waited. Then Mason pressed his fingers several times against the button, causing the chimes to repeat their summons.

“That should wake them up,” Sally Madison said, unconsciously keeping her voice lowered almost to a whisper.

“It should for a fact,” Mason agreed, pushing the button twice more.