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Updated: May 5, 2025
Dundee ran through the kitchen and dining room and into the living room, for he had recognized Penny Crain's sweet, husky contralto. "What are you doing back here, young woman?" he demanded. "You were told to go home and forget all this ugly business " "Dad wants a private word with you," Penny explained, her brown eyes luminous with happiness.
When the trio entered the reception room of the district attorney's suite in the courthouse Sanderson paused at Penny Crain's desk: "Bring in your notebook, Penny. This man has some information he considers important." A minute later Sanderson had begun to question his voluntary but highly nervous witness. "Your name?"
Through the closed door came sounds which Dundee presently identified as connected with Penny Crain's arrival the emphatic click of her heels; the quick opening and shutting of desk drawers.... The down-hearted young detective debated the question of taking his perplexities out to her, but decided against it.
Possibly, or probably, he had bragged to Clive or Ralph Hammond, his architects, of his clever invention. And the Hammond boys had passed on the information to Judge Marshall, when, after Crain's failure and flight, the house had become the property of the ex-judge. These thoughts rushed through his mind as his flashlight explored the shelf through the tilted opening.
And the crisis had become so acute that Polly had arbitrarily called upon Clive Hammond and then had forced Ralph to accompany her. "Do you know, Miss Beale, why Ralph Hammond did not keep his engagement with Mrs. Selim this afternoon? Or rather, his promise to appear for cocktails and to be Miss Crain's partner for the rest of the evening dinner and dancing at the Country Club?" "I do not!"
"Tell me honestly: do you think Tracey Miles loves Flora enough to do that for her?" Suddenly, inexplicably, Penny began to laugh not hysterically, but with genuine mirth. "What are you laughing at?" Dundee demanded indignantly, but the sustained ringing of the telephone bell checked Penny Crain's mirthful laughter.
Better take the pictures in Miss Crain's office," Dundee directed. "You stay here, Lydia. I want to talk with you while that job is being done." "Yes, sir," Lydia answered, and accepted without thanks the chair he offered. "I suppose you have read The Hamilton Morning News today, Lydia?" "I have!"
Fifteen minutes later Dundee was sitting at Penny Crain's desk in her office of the district attorney's suite, replacing the receiver upon the telephone hook, after having put in a call for Sanderson, who was still in Chicago, keeping vigil at the bedside of his dying mother. "Did you find out anything new when you questioned the crowd this morning?" Penny asked.
In spite of his chagrin at not finding the gun, Dundee studied the simple mechanism which Roger Crain's ingenuity had conceived. From the outside, the eight-inch length of board fitted smoothly, giving no indication whatever that it was otherwise than what it seemed part of a cheaply built wall.
That made four times he had had to snap out the fact that District Attorney Sanderson was playing some well-earned golf on the Country Club links, Dundee reflected angrily, as he picked up the receiver. But the call was for Dundee himself, and the voice on the other end of the wire was Penny Crain's, although almost unrecognizable. "Speak more slowly, Penny!" Dundee urged.
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