Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

WilMTl teeth when she smiled, was probably about ;wenty-four and, according to the clerk, carried herself with an air of distinction, a conscious recognition of her own beauty and the power it gave her over men. He thought she might be in pictures, because of her beauty, although he was quite certain he'd never seen her face on the screen. After reading that, I was inclined to forgive his smirks. He'd evidently been completely hypnotized. He hadn't been able to describe a liingle article of clothing I was wearing — only to live a glowing, but nevertheless general and rague description. I had breakfast and went to the office, opening the door with the key Mr. Foley had given -ne. I was the first one there. There was quite i pile of mail under the door and, because Mr. BY [RLE STANLEY GARDNER Author of "The Case of the Substitute Face," "The Case of the Howling Dog," etc. Foley had given me no instructions about opening mail, I stacked it in a neat pile on his desk. I set my own desk in order, with stationery taken out of the drawers, cleaned my typewriter keys and rubbed the platen with alcohol. While I worked, I kept thinking of the events of the night before. Had Bruce Eaton taken that agreement? Had Mr. Padgham opened my brief case under cover of the darkness in the corridor? There had been an interval, while he was groping for the light switch, when he could have done it. As for the rest, I decided not to worry. I'd gone into the thing as Mr. Foley's secretary. Mr. Foley had instructed me what to do. Mr. Foley was a lawyer. After all, it was up to him to take the responsibility. I opened the drawer to take out my shorthand book. I couldn't find it. Hastily, I searched every drawer in the desk. My book was gone! The door opened and Mr. Padgham entered the office. He was flustered and pretty much excited. "Where's Foley?" he asked. "Mr. Foley hasn't come in yet," I told him. He came across the room to stand in front of my desk. "What happened to you last night?" "What happened to you?" I countered. "I waited in the automobile, expecting you'd be right down." "You weren't there w'hen I got back." "Well," I told him, "I was gone only for a minute. I had no idea you'd run away and leave me." "I didn't run away and leave you," he said. "You ran away and left me." I took refuge behind a secretarial mask. "I'm sorry," I said, with the impersonal politeness which a well-trained secretary gives to a client in the office. He studied me with his selfish, glittering, deep-set litle eyes and I could see that my attitude bothered him. "How did you get home?" he asked. I laughed lightly. "After all, Mr. Padgham, I get home by myself every night. It's quite simple for a woman to find her way around the city alone." "Have you," he asked, "read the morning papers?" "Yes." "You understand then, what it was you saw last night?" "Certainly." "You haven't . . . well ... I gather from the description given by the drug clerk that you were the one who notified the police." I smiled serenely up at him. "Why, of course, I notified the police, Mr. Padgham. Isn't that the proper thing to do when one stumbles upon the body of a murdered man?" "It may be proper but . . . but, well, is it advisable?" "I thought it was," I said. "I'm not certain that Mr. Foley will like it." "We'll leave that matter entirely up to Mr. Foley," I said. He leaned impressively forward until his cheeks were so close I could smell the odor of shaving lotion. "You'd better be pretty careful not to offend me, Miss Bell," he said. "You understand that I could tell the police who instructed the drug clerk to put in that call." "Why certainly," I said, making my eyes large and round with simulated hurt innocence. "Aren't you going to? I am. I'll tell them I ran down to the drugstore to telephone, while you went into the house to. . . ." HE straightened as though I'd jabbed him with a pin. The color left his cheeks momentarily, then returned, darker than ever. "Miss Bell," he said, "under no circumstances are you ever to tell a living soul that I was in that house." "Under those circumstances," I said, "it's up to you to keep the police from finding out I was the one who talked with the drug clerk. Because, if they questioned me, I'd have to (Continued on page 78) She got to her feet and pointed angrily at Mr. Foley. "I thought I could count on you. I thought that's what an attorney was for." 27