The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1943-01-18
M!;&[gls}s29
by George
Harmon
Coke

knew ABOUT the envelope and the
people who had called on Perry
Clarke, wouldn't he know who
had killed him? If he had seen
two of the three callers that night,
why couldn't he know who the
third was? Or had he been the
third? Was he the killer?
The idea began to screw down
the tension. Then her thoughts be-
gan to snarL Why did this man
want the envelope? Had he taken
the bonds? That he had been the
man who had hired the apartment
across the hall from Clarke-Kent
had told her about this-seemed
logical. He had done this to watch
Clarke. He knew who had called
on him and he probably had &C
cess to Clarke's apartment. Who
was he? Della didn't know. She
had described him but that was
all. Suppose they could find out?
If they could learn that much it
might even be advisable to 90
direct to the police. With Ward
Aliens South American trouble
no longer a secret, the envelope
was no longer so important; the
chief thing now was to learn the
identity of the man who knew so
much.
Suddenly she knew what she
should do. She should try to find
out where the man went. Joyce
reached for the door handle. She
could see the doorway quite well
from here but if she tried to leave
the car after he came out ne
would hear her, whereas if she
got out now she could stand be-
hind the car, out of sight. and be
ready to go.
She got her fingers on the
handle. That's where they stayed.
Because just then something
moved in the shadow of the door
way and assumed the shape of a
man. '
Identified!
CHE leaned a little nearer the
- car window. Even in the shad-
ows she could see that he was
quite tall, and then luck favored
her and he turned right, toward
the dimly-lighted window ad-
jacent to the doorway and the
only relatively bright spot in that
part of the block.
The first thing she saw was that
he carried something in his hand,
something oblong and white
which he stuffed in his coat
pocket; then he had stepped in
front of the window, his figure
silhouetted against the light, and
in some way a part of that light
was reflected on his profile.
For that first step or two she
peered at him with quickly
mounting incredulity; then the
tension within her wound up like
a spring. That profile, that figure
was familiar. The way he carried
himself, the sharp angle of nose
and jaw. 1t couldn't be and yet
she knew it was. That man was
Raeburn-Don Losado.
He was gone before she could
conquer her surprise. The night
shadows had swallowed him and
she was sitting with her face
pressed against the glass staring
at the empty sidewalk in front of
the dinly- Lighted window.
She found her muscles taut anS
stiff and sat back. Raeburnl So he
was the one? Well, there was no
need to follow him now. She
found relief in this thought. She
hadn't really known whether she
would be quite up to the task she
had set for herself, and now it
didn't matter.
She glanced at the electric clock
on the instrument panel. Della
should be coming out. She looked
at the yawning darkness of the
doorway and waited. Everything
was still now, except for the faint
ticking of the clock. She found
herself listening for the sound,
and presently the ticking seemed
to grow more distinct, fashioning
an annoying sequence that beat
| against her eardrumS.
It was her nerves. She knew
that and told herself she was be-
ing silly.
| To be continued