“I most certainly did not,” snapped Matlin. “I have said so. I will not stand for this sort of innuendo. I am not a liar. You said it was a conference . . .”

Mike held the man’s eye. “We are simply trying to find out what happened to the dog,” he said. Matlin fell silent.

“Surely you realize,” purred Mike, “that, human frailty being what it is, there may have been other errors in what we were told this afternoon. There was at least one more.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baker,” he continued, “worked in their garden this afternoon. Bones abandoned the ball game to visit the Bakers’ dog, Smitty. At three o’clock, the Bakers, after discussing the time carefully, lest it be too late in the day, decided to bathe Smitty. When they caught him, for his ordeal, Bones was still there. . . . So, you see, Miss May Matlin, who says she saw Bones lying by the sidewalk before three o’clock, was mistaken.”

Matlin twitched. Russell said sharply, “The testimony of the Bakers is extremely clear.” The Bakers, who looked alike, both brown outdoor people, nodded vigorously.

“The time at which Mr. Matlin returned is quite well established. Diane saw him. Mrs. Daugherty, next door, decided to take a nap, at five after three. She had a roast to put in at four thirty. Therefore, she is sure of the time. She went upstairs and from an upper window, she, too, saw Mr. Matlin come home. Both witnesses say he drove his car into the garage at three ten, got out, and went around the building to the right of it—on the weedy side.”

Mr. Matlin was sweating. His forehead was beaded. He did not speak.

Mike shifted papers. “Now, we know that the kids trooped up to Phil Bourchard’s kitchen at about a quarter of three. Whereas Bones, realizing that Smitty was in for it, and shying away from soap and water like any sane dog, went up Hannibal Street at three o’clock sharp. He may have known in some doggy way where Freddy was. Can we see Bones loping up Hannibal Street, going above Greenwood Lane?”

“We can,” said Daugherty. He was watching Matlin. “Besides, he was found above Greenwood Lane soon after.”

“No one,” said Mike slowly, “was seen in Matlin’s back lot, except Matlin. Yet, almost immediately after Matlin was there, the little dog died.”

“Didn’t Diane . . .?”

“Diane’s friends came at three-twelve. Their evidence is not reliable.” Diane blushed.

“This . . . this is intolerable!” croaked Matlin. “Why my back lot?”

Daugherty said, “There was no poison lying around my place, I’ll tell you that.”

“How do you know?” begged Matlin. And Freddy’s eyes, with the smudges under them, followed to Russell’s face. “Why not in the street? From some passing car?”