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Page 23
He sobered instantly and studied the other spots. Indeed, I had
not examined them closely myself. They were the very faint stains
of some other yellow substance, a liquid which had dried and did
not rub off as the make-up, and there were also some small round
drops of dark red, almost hidden in the fancy red scrollwork of
the lettering on the towel, "Manton Pictures, Inc." The latter
had escaped me altogether.
"Blood!" Kennedy exclaimed. Then, "Look here!" The marks of the
pale yellow liquid trailed into a slender trace of blood. "It
looks as if some one had cleaned a needle on it," he muttered,
"and in a hurry."
I remembered his previous remark. The murder had been in
Tarrytown. We had just arrived here.
"Would anyone have time to do it?" I asked.
"Whoever used the towel did so in a hurry," he reiterated,
seriously. "It may have been some one afraid to leave any sort of
clue out there at Phelps's house. There were too many watchers
about. It might have seemed better to have run the risk of a
search. With no sign of a wound on Miss Lamar's person, it was
pretty certain that neither Mackay nor I would attempt to frisk
everyone. It was not as though we were looking for a revolver, if
she were shot, or a knife, if she had been stabbed. And"--he
could not resist another dig at me--"and that we should look in a
washroom here for a towel was, well, an idea that wouldn't occur
to anyone but the most amateur and blundering sort of sleuth.
It's beginner's luck, Walter, beginner's luck."
I ignored the uncomplimentary part of his remarks. "Who could
have been in the washroom just before me?" I asked.
Suddenly he hurried through the waiting room to the door to
Manton's office, opening it without ceremony. Manton was gone. We
exchanged glances. I remembered that Werner had preceded us
upstairs. "It means Werner or Manton himself," I whispered, so
the girl just behind us would not hear.
Kennedy strode out to the hall, and to a window overlooking the
court. After a moment he pointed. I recognized both the cars used
to transport the company to the home of Emery Phelps. There was
no sign that either had just arrived, for even the chauffeurs
were out of sight, perhaps melted into the crowd about the tank
in the corner.
"They must have arrived immediately behind us," Kennedy remarked.
"We wasted several valuable minutes looking at that water stuff
ourselves."
At that moment Werner's voice rose from the reception room below.
It was probable that he would be up to rejoin us again. I
remembered that he had not been at all at ease while Kennedy
questioned him in Tarrytown; that here at the studio he had been
palpably anxious to remain close at our heels. I felt a surge of
suspicion within me.
"Listen, Craig," I muttered, in low tones. "Manton had no
opportunity to steal down the hall after the girl closed the
door, and--"
"Why not!" he interrupted, contradicting me. "We had our backs to
the door while we were talking with Werner."
"Well, anyhow, it narrows down to Manton and Werner because that
is the washroom for these offices--"
"'Sh!" Kennedy stopped me as Werner mounted the stairs. He turned
to the director with assumed nonchalance. "How long have the
other cars been here?" he asked. "I thought we came pretty fast."
Werner smiled. "I guess those boys had enough of Tarrytown. They
rolled into the yard, both of them, while you and Mr. Jameson and
Manton were stopping to watch the people in the water."
"I see!" Kennedy gave me a side glance. "Where are the dressing
rooms?" he inquired. It was a random shot.
Werner pointed to the end of the hall, toward the washroom. "In
the next building, on this floor--that is, the principals'. It's
a rotten arrangement," he added. "They come through sometimes and
use our lavatory, because it's a little more fancy and because it
saves a trip down a flight of stairs. Believe me, it gets old
Manton on his ear."
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