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talks louder than checks with those New Englanders. But don’t you see? If Andy had had murder in mind when he left he wouldn’t have taken the money. He took it along when he went to meet the girl only because he’d decided to pay her off if that was the only way to keep her from carrying out her threats to make trouble. She was bitter about not getting a chance to be Miss America, and she blamed Andy for her failure.”
    “Just what did go wrong, do you know?”
    “The girl had too purple a past, I think. Anyway, she knew that her backers had paid Andy a lot of money to give her a publicity build-up, and she wanted him to kick back part of it. Andy says she threatened to tell me a lot of awful lies about how he had led her astray with liquor and drugs when she was under the age of consent, and how she now was encientay …”
    Miss Withers blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Oh, sorry. Since my trip to Paree I just can’t seem to help those Gaulish expressions creeping into my speech. I mean, that she was expecting.”
    “I see.” The schoolteacher swallowed hard. “You know, Mrs. Rowan, all this sounds awfully wicked and out of character for a mere child of eighteen.”
    “She was old in wickedness, that one! Oh, I know. Anyway, according to the story Andy tells now, he says he got into town around ten. He had a sort of date with the girl, at least she’d set that night—”
    “A Thursday, was it?”
    “Friday. She’d set it as a deadline. Andy was going to phone her from here and ask her to come up for a showdown, paying over the money as a last resort. But when he let himself into the house he turned on the lights and there was the Harrington girl dead in the middle of my Aubusson carpet!” She pointed, dramatically, to a spot near Miss Withers’ foot.
    “Quiet, Talley,” ordered the schoolteacher. “This is more important than taking a walk.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Your husband may be telling the truth. Stranger things have happened—”
    Words were fairly tumbling out of Natalie now, a torrent unloosed. “He says his first thought was to phone the police, so he rushed back into the hall where the instrument is.” She pointed. “As he was dialing, before they answered, he was hit over the head, and when he came to it was hours later.”
    The Withers eyebrows went up suspiciously. “Pray how could he tell that?”
    “The body, of course. It had been warm when he first touched her, and now it was cold. He realized that whatever alibi he had once had was gone. Andy lost his head, stripped the body to prevent identification, and somehow got her out into his car. Whoever hit him from behind had taken the envelope with the money, but he was too frightened and excited to discover that then. He drove around the rest of the night trying to find a place to leave her. That’s his story, but—”
    “But there’s a catch to it, isn’t there?”
    Natalie nodded. “Yes. I do so want to believe him. But you see, the phone here at the house had been disconnected for over a month.”
    “The phone ? That wasn’t what I meant at all. He may not have known. Even if he’d spent several evenings here with the girl they might not have had any reason to use the telephone. As for his call to the police, he may not even have waited for the dial tone, many people don’t when they’re in a hurry. But it was a worse flaw that occurred to me. Granted that his amended story is true, then just how did the girl—and her murderer— get inside?”
    Natalie Rowan paused to comfort herself with a nip of cognac from the little bar disguised as a rosewood cabinet. “Ask me something hard,” she said bitterly. “Andy kept silent because he didn’t want me to know, but now he admits that early in their love affair he’d had a key made for her!”
    Miss Withers said softly, “What a tangled web we weave—” She pondered. “If your husband had taken the witness stand and told about the key it might have