of him.

“You didn’t know this?” said Paar, who had noticed the movement.

“No. We were actually interested in one Otto Schumacher.”

Paar cursed himself under his breath. Now they had Catell tagged and Paar himself had done the damage. He smiled nervously.

“Well, it’s of no consequence. And as I was saying, Mr. Catell was here only briefly. He mentioned to me how anxious he was to get back to New York. In fact, I believe he took the one-o’clock train.”

Herron made no comment. The stenographer was sharpening his pencil, the detective stood near the wall picking his teeth, and the fourth man was holding a paper cup of water to Selma’s lips.

“Oh, Jaysis!” she said.

The silence made Paar uncomfortable. He still didn’t know whether they had got anything out of Selma.

“If you gentlemen are through, I believe I’ll accompany the lady home now.” Paar took Selma by the arm.

“Of course, Mr. Paar. We’ll be in touch with her. And you,” Herron added.

Paar helped Selma out of the chair. One shoulder of her deep-cut dress was slipping down her arm and her left stocking sagged She looked terrible. Outside, even the cold night air didn’t seem to help her. Selma sat in one corner of Paar’s big limousine, never saying a word. Nor did Paar. It could wait till morning, he figured. He and Selma were going to stick together for a while, seeing they were both after the same man. Meanwhile, there’d be some compensations, and he looked at Selma’s inert figure leaning in the corner of the seat.

“End of the line,” Paar said in a cheery voice. It didn’t cheer Selma.

“Jaysis,” she said.

He helped her out of the car and into the apartment building. They went up in the elevator. Once in the apartment, Paar locked the door.

“Selma, dear, sit down and be comfortable. Your wrap, oops, thank you. And now, sweet, the hair of the dog for you.”

Selma straightened up and patted her hair. She looked more animated now and struck a saucy pose. The dress had slipped off one shoulder again.

Paar sat down next to Selma and handed her a glass of straight whisky. She drank it fast, wrinkling her eyes at him over the rim of the glass.

“Paar, baby, you’re a lover.” She put a whisky-wet kiss on his big forehead.

“How would you know?” Paar said. He patted her shoulder. “But it’s good to see you cheered up again, Selma. Your ordeal at the station—”

“One more, Paar baby.” She handed him her empty glass.

“Did they question you long, dear?” Paar refilled Selma’s glass and held it just out of reach.

“Come on, baby, come on.” He gave her the glass quickly, noticing how easily she could lose her temper. After two swallows Selma put the glass down and leaned back, sighing. “Paar, you’re so good to me.”

“Don’t mention it, my dear. And stay as long as you like. In fact, Selma, what do you say you move in with me? The place is large, I’m alone, I could use an attractive hostess when I entertain.”

Selma wasn’t answering. Her face was flushed now and she was staring at the ceiling with a vague smile.

“Selma, my dear, are you all right?”

“Jaysis.”

Paar saw it was no use. She didn’t resist when he pulled her up and steered her toward the bedroom. He hadn’t expected she would. Sitting on the large bed, Selma smiled pleasantly when Paar started to unbutton her dress.

“You’ll be comfortable soon now.” His hands were sweating. “We’ll talk about Catell in the morning, sweetness. And you’ll tell me all about your bad, bad time with the police.”

He took her dress off, Selma lifting her rear so he could pull it up. Sitting down again, she swayed a little, eyes closed. Paar steadied her and started to fumble with her brassiere.

“Soon now, my dearest, soon you’ll be all right, eh, Selma?” He got the brassiere unhooked and pulled the straps off her shoulders. His voice was shaky when he said, “Darling.”

Selma sank back on the bed, sighing. With nervous movements Paar fumbled with his dinner jacket while he ran to the light switch. He was pulling his tie off when he clicked the light switch.

Out of the darkness Selma said, “Jaysis.”

Chapter Six

“Why’d you let ‘em go?” The detective was still picking his teeth.

“I got all the information I need at the moment,” Herron said. He was shuffling through the stenographer’s notes,

“Coffee, anyone?” The fourth man stuck his head in the door.

“Not for me.” Herron lit himself a cigarette and shuffled