would be a kindness. It's not often I have the opportunity to be a host.'
'No, diank you,' Ken managed to get out, pulled his arm free and went on down the stairs.
'You have a stain on your coat, sir,' Sweeting called, leaning over the banister rail. 'That brown stain. Do you see it? I have something that will take it out if you would care to have it.'
Widiout looking back, Ken increased his pace. He reached the dhrd-floor landing. The temptation to run was now too much for him, and he went down the next flight of stairs diree at a time.
He bolted across the landing, down the next flight of stairs, across the first-floor landing to the dimly lit hall. He jerked open the front door and cannoned into a girl as she was about to enter the hall.
Ken was so startled, he jumped back.
'No need to knock me over, darling,' the girl said, adjusting her pert little hat. She reached out and flicked down a light switch, flooding the hall with hard light.
She was a plump blonde with granite-hard eyes. Her black dress accentuated her curves.
'Hello,' she said, giving him a bright, professional smile. 'What's your hurry?'
'Sorry, I didn't see you,' Ken said breathlessly. He took a step forward, but she blocked the doorway.
'Well, you do now.' She eyed him over with professional interest. 'Want a little fun, baby?' She pointed to a door to the left of the street door. 'Just here. Come in and have a drink.'
'Sorry; I'm in a hurry.'
'Come on, baby, don't be shy.' She sidled up to him.
'Get out of my way!' Ken said desperately. He put his hand on her arm and pushed her aside.
'Hey! Don't put your hands on me, you cheap bum!' the girl cried, and as Ken ran into the street, she started to yell abuse after him.
III
Rain was still falling as Ken hurried along the glistening sidewalk. The air was cooler, and overhead the black storm clouds were breaking up. From time to time the moon appeared and disappeared as the clouds moved across the sky, driven by the brisk wind.
Ken was thinking: Those two will know me again. They will give the police my description. Every newspaper will carry the description.
But why should anyone connect me with Fay? I had no motive for killing her. It's the motive that gives the police a lead. Without a motive, they can get nowhere. She was a prostitute. The murder of a prostitute is always the most difficult case to solve. But supposing Sweeting or the girl happens to come to the bank? He turned cold at the thought. Would they recognize me? Would they know me without a hat ? They wouldn't expect to see me in a bank. But I must watch out. If I see them come in, I can always leave my till and get out of sight.
He realized the horror of his future. He would always have to be on his guard; always on the look-out for these two. Not for a week or a month, but for as long as he remained at the bank.
The realization of his position brought him to a sudden halt. He stood on the edge of the kerb, staring blankly down the wet street, his mind crawling with alarm.
For as long as he remained in the bank and for as long as he remained in town! The sight of any fat man with a Pekinese or any hard-eyed blonde would now send him scurrying for cover. He wouldn't be able to relax for a moment. It would be an impossible situation. The only way out would be to get a transfer to another branch in another city. He would have to sell his home. It might not be possible to get a transfer. He might even have to throw up banking and start hunting for some other job.
And what would Ann think? He had never been able to keep anything from her in the past. How could he hope to keep this from her? She always seemed to know when things were going wrong for him. There was that time when he had a forty dollar shortage in his takings. He hadn't told her. He had drawn the money from his own account to make up the shortage, but she had soon found out about it.
What a mad, crazy fool I've been! he thought. Why did I do it? Why the hell didn't I leave that girl and go home!
Across the road he caught sight of a moving figure, and he stepped hurriedly back into the shadows. His mouth turned dry when he saw the flat cap and the gleaming buttons of a cop.
Somehow he forced himself into a walk. His heart was thudding as he passed the cop who looked across the road at him, and it seemed to Ken the cop was suspicious. It was as much as he could do not to break into a run.
He kept on, not looking back, expecting to hear the cop shout after him. Nothing happened, and when he had walked twenty yards or so, he looked over his shoulder.
The cop was walking on, swinging his night stick, and Ken drew in a sharp breath of relief.
That meeting underlined again the horror of his future. Every time he saw a cop now he would be scared.
Would it be better to end it right now? Should he go to the police and tell them what had happened?
Pull yourself together, you spineless fool! he told himself angrily. You've got to think of Ann. If you keep your nerve you'll be all right. No one will suspect you. Get clear of here, get home and you'll be safe.
He stiffened his shoulders and increased his pace. In a minute or so he reached the parking lot.
Then a thought struck him that again stopped him dead in his tracks and filled him with sick panic.
Had the car attendants kept a book in which they entered the registration number of every car parked in the
