To my surprise the ignition wasn’t locked. The motor of the car I was in throbbed to life.

I straightened up. She caught sight of me then, and stood there with the eyes of the officer on her, powerless to do anything.

I’ll hand it to her. She played the one card that would have got her by. Her lips quivered, and she said, “I’m awfully n-n-nervous this morning. My husband was m-m-murdered.”

I saw tension go out of the officer’s frame. “That,” he said sympathetically, “is too bad. May I see you up to your apartment?”

I drove away.

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I REGISTERED at the Perkins Hotel as Rinton C. Watson of Klamath Falls, Oregon. I got a room with a bath and asked the bellboy to have the captain step up to the room for a minute.

The captain had that smirk of simulated deference which characterizes pimps, panderers and procurers the world over. He thought he knew what I wanted before I’d said a word. “You aren’t the one I want,” I said.

“I can do anything for you that any of the others can.”

“No, it’s not that. I wanted to see a man, an old friend.”

“What was his name?”

“I think,” I said, “it’s been changed.”

He laughed. “Tell me what it was, and I may know it.”

“You would if I told you,” I observed, letting him see suspicion in my eyes.

He quit laughing. “There are three of us on duty,” he said.

“Live here in the hotel?” I asked.

“I do. I have a room down in the basement. The others live out.”

“This man,” I said, “is about twenty-five, with very thick black hair. It comes down low in the center of his forehead. He has a short, stubby nose and slate-colored eyes.”

“Where’d you know him?” he asked.

I deliberated for a while before I said, “Kansas City.”

The answer registered. The bell captain made a gesture of co-operation. “That’s Jerry Wegley. He comes on duty at four this afternoon and works until midnight.”

“Wegley,” I mused.

“That the name you knew him under?” the captain asked curiously.

I hesitated perceptibly before saying, “Yes.”

“I see.”

“Where could I reach him?”

“Here, after four o’clock.”

“I mean now.”

“I might find out his address—perhaps you’d like to talk with him over the telephone.”

“I’d have to see him,” I said. “I was going under another name when he knew me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do that,” I said, and locked the door as he went out. I took the money corset out of my belt and started taking out fifties and hundreds. There was eight thousand four hundred and fifty dollars in all. I put the bills in four rolls, distributed them in my trousers pockets, and rolled the corset-belt into a compact bundle.