The Rubber Band

She was perfectly cool and sweet. From the way she was handling herself, no one would have supposed she had any notion that she was standing on a hot spot. She included all of us in her good-night glance, and turned and walked out as self-possessed as a young doe not knowing that there's a gun pointed at it and a finger on the trigger.

When the door was shut Perry turned to me briskly. "Where do you want to start, Goodwin? Would fingerprints around the drawer of Muir's desk do any good?"

I grinned at him and shook my head. "Only for practice, and I don't need any. I'd like to have a chat with Muir. He must know it won't do to have Miss Fox arrested just because she was in his room. Maybe he thinks he knows where the money is."

Perry said, "Miss Barish is Mr. Muir's secretary."

"Oh." I looked at the woman with the flat nose still standing there. I said to her, "It was you that typed the cablegram while Miss Fox waited in Muir's room. Did you notice-"

Perry homed in. "You can talk with Miss Barish later." He glanced at the clock on the wall, which said 5:20. "Or, if you prefer, you can talk with her here, now." He shoved his chair back and got up. "If you need me, I'll be in the directors' room, at the other end. I'm late now, for a conference. It won't take long. I'll ask Muir to stay, and Miss Vawter also, in case you want to see her." He had moved around to the front of his desk, and halted there. "One thing, Goodwin, about Muir. I advise you to forget his ridiculous outburst. He's jerky and nervous, and the truth is he's too old for the strain business puts on a man nowadays. Disregard his nonsense. Well?"

"Sure." I waved a hand. "Let him rave."

Perry frowned at me, nodded, and left the room.

The best chair in sight was the one Perry had just vacated, so I went around and took it. Miss Barish stood with her shoulders hanging, squeezing her handkerchief and looking straight at me. I said, friendly, "Move around and sit down-there, where Muir was. So you're Muir's secretary."

"Yes, sir." She got onto the edge of the chair.

"Been his secretary eleven years."

"Yes, sir."

"Cut out the sir. Okay? I'm not gray-headed. So Muir looked through your belongings last Friday and didn't find the money?"

Her eyes darkened. "Certainly he didn't find it."

"Right. Did he make a thorough search of your room?"

"I don't know. I don't care if he did."