From the doorway Liz Madera finally spoke. “See what I mean?”

“I’m beginning to,” Douglas laughed.

So Hook was laughable now, a comic figure. It took some doing, but he choked that down too and found it amazing what a man could do without, what he would throw into the pot when the stakes were high enough.

“Trouble is, I can understand,” Douglas said, serious again, even solemn. “In your shoes, I think I’d be doing just what you are. I’ve got a son too, twelve years old. And frankly, I wouldn’t be able to buy it either, what you’re being asked to buy. I’d want to do some digging myself.” He had picked up the bottle of scotch again, and now he refilled his glass. Seeing that Hook’s was still almost full, he set the bottle back down. And he was frowning now, an actor conveying troubled reflection. “On the other hand, Mr. Hook, you ought to try to understand the position of Liz and Mrs. Rubin. They’ve told the police the truth as they saw it. The fact that you can’t see it the same way—well, that just doesn’t give you a license to go trampling all over their private lives. Now you can stay out here on the coast till doomsday trying to find your own version of the truth—I’m sure the ladies won’t mind that at all. They’ve got nothing to hide. But at the same time you’ve got to respect their privacy. Like today. You just can’t come out here nosing around while no one’s here.”

Hook had sat down in an easy chair in front of the fireplace. Normally, he would never have sat while a host and hostess remained on their feet, but he had felt he was being acted to, was being manipulated, and he had decided that was a game two could play. His position, slouched down, legs thrown out, somehow gave him a psychological advantage over Douglas, made him seem the cool casual arbiter, judge to Douglas’s sweating advocate.

Now that advocate smiled hopefully. “Am I getting through to you?”

Hook did not answer.

“In other words, Mr. Hook—there are laws. And they can be invoked.”

“I’m sure they can.”

Douglas glanced over at Liz in the doorway as though he hoped for some support from that quarter. But there was only silence. Looking back at Hook, he shook his head in regret. “Believe me—we do sympathize with you. If there was anything in the world that girl there could do to bring your son back—”

Now she spoke. “Oh for Christ sake, Jack! Stop it!”

Hook cut in. “Stop what, Miss Madera?”

“Stop playing your game, that’s what!”

“Are we playing games?” Hook asked.

“Of course not,” Douglas said. “She’s just upset, that’s all. And you can’t really blame her, considering the day she’s had so far.”

“It’s not only her I’m interested in,” Hook said. “And not just Mrs. Rubin either. There’s also you.”

Douglas regarded him thoughtfully. “You do push, don’t you?”