“You’re beginning to look a little tired, Dr. Clayton,” Lowry said. “I don’t wonder. The going is getting tough, isn’t it? I can’t feel sorry for you. To be blunt you’re a cold-blooded sort of louse. You strangled Doris Blair because she was demanding that you treat her as you promised instead of keeping her in a back alley. You wanted Doris Blair but you also wanted to be sure that there would be no interference with your smug respectability. Doris must have threatened to air your romance and you didn’t like that. Next you did a dandy job of identifying an innocent man, made it look as if you weren’t quite certain about him which always makes an identification seem more honest. And just now when it looked like Carrol would finally wreck everything anyway, you only took a few seconds to decide to blow the top of his head off.”

Brady put his hand on Clayton’s arm. As Lowry looked on, he saw Brady’s heavy, pugnacious jaw come forward in the manner that meant he was going to become businesslike in the only business he knew well.

Brady gave Clayton a violent shake. The doctor wobbled as if all his joints had suddenly been separated and strung on with wire.

“He’s right, ain’t he, Clayton,” Brady growled savagely. “That was the way it was. Or do you have some better answer?”

Clayton made no reply. The look of hunted futility in his eyes said plainly that he realized it was useless to talk.

Brady shook him again, more violently this time. “Come on. Speak up.”

“Yes,” Clayton said in a low voice, nodding his head slowly. He looked dreadfully pale. The starch had gone out of him completely.

Brady turned to one of the uniformed men. “You stay here and watch this bird,” he said. “I’ll phone the locals and let them know they can take over for us.”

Brady went to the phone and quickly put in the call to the local police. Hanging up, he nodded in satisfaction and said, “We can go now.”

Harrison and the other cop took Dr. Clayton with them in the police car.

“You mind if I ride back with you?” Brady asked Lowry, a trifle sheepishly.

“A pleasure, Sergeant Brady,” Lowry said with hearty magnanimity.

Terry sat snugly between Lowry and Brady in the front seat of Lowry’s car. She darted a cold, unfriendly look at Brady, who winced.

“You must hate me,” he said.

“She isn’t head over heels in love with you, Brady, if that’s what you mean. But you’ve got to forgive him, Terry. He was only doing his job.”

“That’s right, Ma’am.”