If our man goes
to the chair for the death of Rivers, the death of Fleming might even
remain an accident. I can hardly guarantee that; I have my agency license
to think of, among other things. But I feel reasonably safe in saying
that I could keep the Premix Company from figuring in the case. Would
that satisfy you?"

"It most certainly would, Colonel Rand!" Goode's voice shook even more.
"Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure of anything. It'll cost the Premix Company some money to
get this done--I'll have certain expenses, for one thing, which could not
very gracefully be itemized--and I will have to have your cooperation.
Now, I want you to remain at home, where I can reach you at any moment,
for the rest of the day. I'll call you later."

He listened to Goode babble his gratitude for a while, then terminated
the call and hung up. Then he transferred the Colt .38 to the side pocket
of his coat, picked up one of the sheets on which he had been listing
the collection, and sat for almost fifteen minutes pretending to study
it, keeping his eyes shifting from the hall door to the spiral stairway
and back again.

Finally, the hall door opened, and Anton Varcek came in. Rand half rose,
covering the Czech from his side pocket; Varcek came over and sat down in
an armchair near the desk. He was looking more than ever like Rudolf
Hess. Rudolf Hess on the morning of the Beer Hall Putsch.

"Colonel Rand," he began. "There has, within the last half hour, been a
most important development. I am at a loss to define its significance,
but its importance is inescapable."

Rand nodded. He had been expecting somebody to give birth to an important
development; the steps toward gunfire were progressing in logical series.

"Well?" He smiled encouragingly. "What happened?"

"After you and the ladies left the dining-room," Varcek said, "Fred
Dunmore turned to me and apologized for harboring unjust suspicions of me
in the matter of Lane Fleming's death. He said that he had been unable
to understand who else could have murdered Lane, until you had pointed
out to him that the house could have been entered from the garage, and
the gunroom from the library. Then, he said, he had had a conversation
with some unnamed gentleman at the party last evening, and had learned
that Lane had discovered that Humphrey Goode was deceiving him, and had
been about to have him dismissed from his position with the company, and
to sever his personal connections wi