'Dettweiler?' Kingship frowned.

He went into the living room.

Gordon Gant rose from a comfortable chair adjacent to the fireplace. 'Hello,' he said pleasantly.

Kingship looked at him for a moment. 'Didn't Miss Richardson make it clear this afternoon that I don't want-' His hands fisted at his sides. 'Get out of here,' he said. 'If Marion comes in...'

'Exhibit A,' Gant pronounced, raising a pamphlet in each hand, 'in the case against Bud Corliss.'

'I don't want to-' The sentence hung unfinished. Apprehensively, Kingship came forward. He took the pamphlets from Gant's hands. 'Our publications...'

'In the possession of Bud Corliss,' Gant said.

'Kept in a strongbox which until last night resided in a closet in Menasset, Massachusetts.' He gave a light kick to the strongbox on the floor beside him. The open lid was bent out of shape. There were four oblong Manila envelopes inside. 'I stole it,' Gant said.

'Stole it?'

He smiled. 'Tight fire with fire. I don't know where he's staying in New York, so I decided to sally forth to Menasset'

'You crazy...' Kingship sat heavily on a couch that faced the fireplace. He stared at the pamphlets. 'Oh God,' he said.

Gant resumed his seat next to the couch. 'Observe the condition of Exhibit A, if you will. Frayed around the edges, soiled by many fingermarks, center pages worked loose from the staples. I would say he had them for quite some time. I would say he drooled over them considerably.'

'That... that son of a bitch...' Kingship spoke the phrase distinctly, as though not accustomed to using it.

Gant prodded the strongbox with his toe. 'The History of Bud Corliss, a drama in four envelopes,' he said. 'Envelope one: newspaper clippings of the high school hero; class president, chairman of the prom committee, Most likely To Succeed and so on and forth. Envelope two: honorable discharge from the Army, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, several interesting though obscene photographs and a pawn ticket which I have discovered may be exchanged for a wristwatch if you have a couple of hundred dollars you don't need. Envelope three: college days; transcripts from Stoddard and Caldwell. Envelope four: two well-read brochures describing the magnitude of Kingship Copper Incorporated, and this...'-he drew a folded sheet of blue-lined yellow paper from his pocket and passed it to Kingship-'which I can't make head or tail of.'

Kingship unfolded the paper. He read halfway down it. 'What is it?'

'I'm asking you.' He shook his head.

'It must have some bearing on this,' Gant said. 'It was in with the pamphlets.'

Kingship shook his head and handed the paper back to Gant, who returned it to his pocket. Kingship's gaze dropped to the pamphlets. The grip of his hands crackled the thick paper. 'How am I going to tell Marion?' he said. 'She loves him...' He looked at Gant dismally. Then slowly his face smoothed out. He glanced at the pamphlets and back at Gant, his eyes narrowing. 'How do I know these were in the strongbox? How do I know that you didn't put them there yourself?' Gant's jaw dropped. 'Oh, for...' Kingship went around the end of the couch and across the room. There was a telephone on a carved table. He dialed a number. 'Come on now,' Gant chided. In the silence of the room the buzzing and the clicks of the phone were audible. 'Hello? Miss Richardson? This is Mr. Kingship. I'd like to ask a favor of you. A big favor, I'm afraid. And absolutely confidential.' An unintelligible twittering emanated from the phone. 'Would you please go down to the office-yes, now. I wouldn't ask you, only it's terribly important, and I-' There was more twittering. 'Go to the public relations department,' Kingship said. 'Go through the files and see whether we've ever sent any promotional publications to... Bud Corliss.'

'Burton Corliss,' Gant said.

'Or Burton Corliss. Yes, that's right-Mr. Corliss. I'm at my home, Miss Richardson. Call me as soon as you find out. Thank you. Thank you very much, Miss Richardson. I appreciate this...' He hung up. Gant shook Ms head wryly. 'We're really grasping at straws, aren't we.'

'I have to be sure,' Kingship said. 'You have to be sure of your evidence in a thing like this.' He came back across the room and stood behind the couch. 'You're sure already, and you know damn well you are,' Gant said.

Kingship braced his hands on the couch, looking down at the pamphlets in the hollow of the cushion where he had been sitting.

'You know damn well you are,' Gant repeated.

After a moment Kingship's breath sighed out tiredly. He came around the couch, picked up the pamphlets, and sat down. 'How am I supposed to tell Marion?' he asked. He rubbed his knee. 'That son of a bitch... that God- damned son of a bitch...'

Gant leaned towards him, his elbows on his knees. 'Mr. Kingship, I was right about this much. Will you admit I might be right all the way?'

'What 'all the way'?'

'About Dorothy and Ellen.' Kingship drew an irritated breath. Gant spoke quickly: 'He didn't tell Marion he went to Stoddard. He must have been mixed up with Dorothy. He must be the one who got her pregnant. He killed her, and Powell and Ellen somehow found out it was him he had to kill them too.'

'The note...'

'He could have tricked her into writing it! It's been done before-there was a case in the papers just last month about a guy who did it, and for the same reason; the girl was pregnant.'

Kingship shook his head. 'I'd believe it of him,' he said. 'After what he's done to Marion, I'd believe anything of him. But there's a flaw in your theory, a big flaw.'

'What?' Gant demanded.

'He's after the money, isn't he?' Gant nodded. 'And you 'know' Dorothy was murdered because she was wearing something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?' Gant nodded again. 'Well,' Kingship said, 'if he were the one who'd gotten her into trouble, and if she were ready to marry him that day, then why would he have killed her? He would have gone ahead and married her, wouldn't he? He would have married her and gotten in on the money.'

Gant looked at him wordlessly.

'You were right about this,' Kingship said, lifting the pamphlets, 'but you're wrong about Dorothy. All wrong.'

After a moment Gant rose. He turned and paced up to the window. He looked through it dully, gnawing his lower lip. 'I may jump,' he announced.

When the door chimes toned, Gant turned from the window. Kingship had risen and was standing before the fireplace, gazing at the birch logs neatly pyramided there. He turned reluctantly, holding the rolled pamphlets at his side, his face averted from Gant's watching eyes.

They heard the front door open, and then voices: '... Come in for a while?'

'I don't think so, Marion. We'll have to get up early tomorrow.' There was a long silence. 'I'll be in front of my place at seven-thirty.'

'You'd better wear a dark suit. A smelter roust be a filthy place.' Another silence. 'Good night, Bud...'

'Good night.' The door closed.

Kingship wound the pamphlets into a tighter cylinder. 'Marion,' he called, but it came out too low. 'Marion,' he called again, louder.

'Coming,' her voice answered cheerfully. The two men waited, suddenly conscious of a clock's ticking.

She appeared in the wide doorway, perking up the collar of her crisp white full-sleeved blouse. Her cheeks were luminous from the cold outside. 'Hi,' she said. 'We had a-'

She saw Gant. Her hands froze, dropped. 'Marion, we...' She whirled and was gone.

'Marion!' Kingship hurried to the doorway and into the foyer. 'Marion!' She was halfway up the curving white staircase, her legs driving furiously. 'Marion!' he shouted grimly, commanding.

She stopped, facing rigidly up the stairs, one hand on the bannister. 'Well?'

'Come down here,' he said. 'I have to speak to you. This is extremely important.' A moment passed. 'Come down here.' he said.

'All right.' She turned and descended the stairs with regal coldness. 'You can speak to me. Before I go upstairs and pack and get out of here.'

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