ings. It made me think
of a certain social occasion in Israel some thousands of years ago, when
Absalom, at his own party, put a raw one over on his brother Amnon, and
all the rest of King David's sons looked at each other with jaws
sagging, and "every man gat himself up upon his mule and fled." Here, it
was limousines; more than one noble chariot--filled with members of the
faction who'd helped to rush Vandeman into office over the claims of
older members--rolled discredited down the drive.

Yet a ball is the hardest thing in the world to kill; like a lizard, if
you break it in two, the head and tail go right on wriggling
independently. Also, behind this masked affair at the country club was
the business proposition of a lot of blossom festival visitors from all
over the state who mustn't be disappointed. By the time I'd finished out
in front, getting my prisoner off to the lock-up, sending Eddie Hughes,
with Capehart and the other helpers he'd picked up to guard the Vandeman
bungalow, handed over to the Santa Ysobel police the matter of finding
Fong Ling, and turned back to see how Barbara was getting on, the music
sounded once more, the rhythmic movement of many feet.

"The boys have got it started again," Jim Edwards joined me in the hall,
his tone still lowered and odd from the amazement of the thing.
"Curious, that business in there yesterday," a nod indicated the little
writing room toward which we moved. "Bronse stepping in, brisk and cool,
for you to question him; pleasant, ordinary looking chap. Would you say
he had it in his head right then to murder you--or Barbara--if you came
too hot on his trail?"

"Me?" I echoed sheepishly. "He never paid me that compliment. He wasn't
afraid of me. I think Barbara sealed her own fate, so far as he was
concerned, when she let Worth pique her into doing a concentrating stunt
at Vandeman's dinner table last night. The man saw that nothing she
turned that light on could long stay hidden. He must have decided, then,
to put her out of the way. As for his wife--well, however much or little
she knew, she'd not defend Barbara Wallace."

At that, Edwards gave me a look, but all he said was,

"Cummings has suffered a complete change of heart, it seems. I left him
in the telephone booth, just now, calling up Dykeman. He'll certainly
keep the wires hot for Worth."

"He'd better," I agreed; and only Edwards's slight, dark smile answered
me.

"There's a side entrance here," he