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across to Richard Warwick's body in its wheelchair. 'We'll tuck it neatly into his jacket pocket, like that.' As he did so, he dislodged a pocket lighter, which fell to the floor. 'Hello, what's this?'
    Laura gave a sharp exclamation and tried to snatch the lighter up, but Starkwedder had already done so, and was examining it. 'Give it to me,' cried Laura breathlessly. 'Give it to me!'
    Looking faintly surprised, Starkwedder handed it to her. 'It's - it's my lighter,' she explained, unnecessarily.
    'All right, so it's your lighter,' he agreed. 'That's nothing to get upset about.' He looked at her curiously. 'You're not losing your nerve, are you?'
    She walked away from him to the sofa. As she did so, she rubbed the lighter on her skirt as though to remove possible fingerprints, taking care to ensure that Starkwedder did not observe her doing so. 'No, of course I'm not losing my nerve,' she assured him.
    Having made certain that the pasted-up message from the newspaper in Richard Warwick's breast pocket was tucked securely under the lapel, Starkwedder went over to the desk, replaced the lid of the paste-pot, removed his gloves, took out a handkerchief, and looked at Laura. 'There we are!' he announced. 'AH ready for the next step. Where's that glass you were drinking out of just now?'
    Laura retrieved the glass from the table where she had deposited it. Leaving her lighter on the table, she returned with the glass to Starkwedder. He took it from her, and was about to wipe off her fingerprints, but then stopped. 'No,' he murmured. 'No, that would be stupid.'
    'Why?' asked Laura.
    'Well, there ought to be fingerprints,' he explained, 'both on the glass and on the decanter. This valet fellow's, for one, and probably your husband's as well. No fingerprints at all would look very fishy to the police.' He took a sip from the glass he was holding. 'Now I must think of a way to explain mine,' he added. 'Crime isn't easy, is it?'
    With sudden passion, Laura exclaimed, 'Oh, don't! Don't get mixed up in this. They might suspect you.'
    Amused, Starkwedder replied, 'Oh, I'm a very respectable chap -. quite above suspicion. But, in a sense I am mixed up in it already. After all, my car's out there, stuck fast in the ditch. But don't worry, just a spot of perjury and a little tinkering with the time element - that's the worst they'd be able to bring against me. And they won't, if you play your part properly.'
    Frightened, Laura sat on the footstool, with her back to him. He came round to face her. 'Now then,' he said, 'are you ready?'
    'Ready - for what?' asked Laura.
    'Come on, you must pull yourself together,' he urged her.
    Sounding dazed, she murmured, 'I feel - stupid - I - I can't think.'
    'You don't have to think,' Starkwedder told her. 'You've just got to obey orders. Now then, here's the blueprint. First, have you got a furnace of any kind in the house?'
    'A furnace?' Laura thought, and then replied, 'Well, there's the water boiler.'
    'Good.' He went to the desk, took the newspaper, and rolled up the scraps of paper in it. Returning to Laura, he handed her the bundle. 'Now then,' he instructed her, 'the first thing you do is to go into the kitchen and put this in the boiler. Then you go upstairs, get out of your clothes and into a dressing-gown - or negligee, or what-have-you.' He paused. 'Have you got any aspirin?'
    Puzzled, Laura replied, 'Yes.'
    As though thinking and planning as he spoke, Starkwedder continued, 'Well - empty the bottle down the loo. Then go along to someone – your mother-in-law, or Miss - what is it - Bennett? - and say you've got a headache and want some aspirin. Then, while you're with whoever it is - leave the door open, by the way - you'll hear the shot.'
    'What shot?' asked Laura, staring at him.
    Without replying, Starkwedder crossed to the table by the wheelchair and picked up the gun. 'Yes, yes,' he murmured absently, 'I'll attend to that.' He examined the gun. 'Hm. Looks foreign to me - war souvenir,