“You can’t leave that around,” she said, “where people can see it!” Her voice was a terrified whisper.

  Sidney Zoom nodded.

  “Now,” he pleaded, “won’t you please understand that I want to help you? I wanted to find out what it was all about before I spoke to you. I didn’t know whether you were really running away, or whether that expression you used in the telegram, about being saved from jail, was just a stall to get the money.”

  “No,” she said, in a low voice, “I needed it to pay my expenses in running away. I didn’t have a cent when it happened.”

  “What was it that happened?”

  “A murder,” she said.

  There was an interval during which the pair stared at each other; the eyes of Sidney Zoom hawk-like in their cold appraisal; the eyes of the young woman pathetically helpless. The train rumbled on through the night, gathering speed.

  Sidney Zoom leaned toward her, so that there was no chance of her words being overheard by other passengers.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “That’s all there is to tell,” she told him, speaking excitedly, “just that.”

  “Did you commit the murder?” asked Sidney Zoom.

  “No,” she said, “of course not.”

  “Why are you running away then?”

  “Because it happened in my apartment.”

  “Do you know who killed him?”

  “I have suspicions, that’s all.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I never liked him,” she said. “But he kept trying to force his attentions on me.”

  “Who?” Zoom inquired.

  “Frank Venard,” she said. “All right, go on.”

  She told him the facts in low, throaty tones.

  “Venard came to my apartment. He knocked on the door and said it was a telegram for me. I opened the door a little ways. I wasn’t dressed. He pushed the door open and came in. He had been drinking, and he was nasty. I started to fight. We struggled around the apartment for awhile. It was horrible—just one of those things that a girl has to put up with once in awhile. Finally I told him I was going to scream. He laughed and told me he’d choke me if I did. Then I heard the pistol shot.”

  “In your apartment?” asked Sidney Zoom.

  “No,” she said, “I don’t think so. I think it was from the fire escape outside of the apartment—just the one shot. And I felt him jerk as the bullet hit him … Oh! It was horrible!”

  “Well,” he said, “go on from there.” She shook her head dubiously.

  “That’s all,” she said. “He was stone dead. I tried to get him to a bed, but I couldn’t lift him. I got blood all over my clothes. The shot struck him in the side and must have gone through the heart. He died instantly.”

  “Why didn’t you notify the authorities?”

  “Because I was framed.”

  “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “Remember,” she said, “I wasn’t dressed and there was blood on my clothes. I didn’t want to notify the authorities, and get a lot of publicity in the papers. I ran in the bedroom closet and put on some more clothes. When I came out, there was a gun lying by the body.”

  “Well?”

  “And,” she said, “my fingerprints were on that gun—I knew they were.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because,” she said, “Paul Stapleton got me to handle the gun. I should have suspected something at the time. He’s one of those fellows who is always giving someone the double-cross.”

  “Who,” he asked, “is Stapleton?”

  “He’s the man I work for.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m his stenographer and secretary.”

  “And he got you to handle the gun?” asked Sidney Zoom.

  “Yes,” she said, “I came into the office and found the gun on my desk. It was greasy. I picked it up and carried it in to him and asked him what it was doing there. He said that he had been cleaning it and had left it on my desk. I didn’t think anything more of it at the time, but I knew that Frank Venard and Paul Stapleton had been having trouble. Venard knew that Stapleton had been taking some bribes. There was some marked money that was given.”

  “What was Stapleton being bribed for?” Zoom asked.

  “He’s got something to do with the narcotic business,” she told him. “He has charge of searching certain incoming vessels. Frank Venard was a private detective who had been employed by someone, I don’t know just whom. Venard would never tell me. He was trying to get something on Mr. Stapleton, and finally he did it. There was a large sum in marked money given as a bribe. I don’t know who it was that gave him the bribe. Somebody was back of it; I couldn’t find out who.”

  “Did Mr. Stapleton know that Venard knew about the bribe?” Zoom asked.

  “Yes,” she said in a low voice, “he knew that he’d been trapped.”

  “But what became of the money?”

  “It was concealed somewhere in his house. He didn’t dare to bank it and he didn’t dare to carry it with him. They had searched the house, but they couldn’t find it.”

  “Suppose,” said Sidney Zoom, “you tell me more about that.”

  “Well,” she said, “there was some man who came to the house. I think he was a big Chinese merchant. He gave Mr. Stapleton a bribe. Anyway, that’s what Venard told me. That’s all I know about it. The Chinese merchant was a plant, but he gave Mr. Stapleton ten thousand dollars in marked money. Then he came out and signaled the men who were watching the place that he had given the bribe to Stapleton. The men rushed in with a search warrant. They searched the house and they searched Stapleton, but they never found the money.”

  “Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom, “the Chinese was wily, and pocketed the money himself, but gave the signal to the men just the same.”

  “No,” she said, “Venard was guarding against that. He searched the Chinese, too.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, the train swaying and lurching as it roared through the night.

  “All right,” Zoom said, “go on from there. What happened next?”

  “That was all,” she said. “Venard swore that sooner or later that marked money would show up. He was waiting for it. He had some other evidence; I don’t know just what it was, but he was getting some evidence that was going to make things pretty hot for Mr. Stapleton.”

  “How did it happen,” Zoom asked, “that you became friendly with Venard, if he was working against your employer?”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Venard became friendly with me. He tried to force his attentions on me at first, so he could get a point of contact with Mr. Stapleton and what was going on in the office. Then, when he found he couldn’t do that, he kept right on. He was objectionable to me, but he seemed madly infatuated. I had had some trouble with him before.

  “That was why I just couldn’t stand and face the music. When I realized that Frank Venard had been shot in my apartment, and that the gun which had done the shooting lay on the floor by the body, with my fingerprints on it, I knew that I was trapped. You see, I’d threatened to shoot him if he didn’t leave me alone.”

  Zoom stared at her thoughtfully.

  “You should have notified the police,” he said. “Even if you had shot him, you would have been acquitted.”

  “I know,” she said, “but think of the publicity and the scandal that would be attached to it. They’d hold me up in the newspapers for the public to stare at.”

  Zoom regarded her steadily.

  “That’s not it,” he said. “There’s some other reason. What is it?” She lowered her eyes and sat staring at her clasped hands.

  “I can’t tell you that,” she said.

  “I can’t help you,” Sidney Zoom told her, “unless you do.”

  “If I should tell you,” she asked, “could you help me?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well,” she said, slowly, “I didn’t dare to let them take my fingerprints. As soon as they took my fingerprints, they’d have known who I was.”

  “And who,” he asked, “are you?”

  “I ran away once before,” she told him. “From what?”

  “I ran away,” she said, “from an investigation. I did it to shield a man who was unfortunate—a man that I loved. He had been guilty of embezzlement; that is, I guess he had, looking back on it now. But at the time I didn’t believe he had. He told me that things went bad for him. He was in a tough place and they were going to send him to the penitentiary, so I took the blame for the embezzlement, and ran away. That shielded him. He was to join me afterwards, and we were to be married. But …”

  “But he didn’t join you?” asked Sidney Zoom. “Yes,” she said, in a low voice.

  “And Stapleton knew this?”

  “I think,” she said, slowly, “that he did.”

  “How did he find it out?”

  “He used to question me about my past,” she said slowly.

  “Some things I told him too much about, and some things not enough. He started checking back on me and I think he found out.”

  “And you think Stapleton is the one who killed Venard?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Have you any proof whatever?”

  “None.”

  “The gun,” said Sidney Zoom, “must have been tossed into the room after you went into the closet.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then the window was open?”

  “Yes.”

  “The fire escape runs just outside of your window?”

  “No, it runs down from the hallway, but it comes close to the room.”

  “In other words,” said Sidney Zoom, “you believe that Stapleton intended to murder Venard? He managed to get Venard drunk and inflamed with the idea of going to your apartment. Then Stapleton tricked you into leaving your fingerprints on a gun, sat out on the fire escape, killed Venard, and, when you had gone into the closet, tossed the gun into your apartment.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And he thought that you’d run away.”

  “He knew,” she said slowly, “that I’d have to. Otherwise, it would mean prison on the other charge, even if I weren’t convicted of murder.”

  “Perhaps,” said Zoom, “Stapleton left some of his fingerprints on that gun.”

  “No, he’s too smart for that. He’d use gloves.”

  “Where,” asked Zoom, “is your apartment?”

  “In the Richmore Apartments—35B.”

  “Give me your key to the apartment,” Zoom said.

  She hesitated a moment, then took a key from her purse and handed it to Sidney Zoom.

  “Would it do any good,” said Sidney Zoom, slowly, “if I should tell you that I am inclined to believe your story?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not a bit,” she said. “I was a little fool. I let myself get talked into becoming a fugitive from justice. I’m all right as long as they don’t take my fingerprints. Whenever they take my fingerprints I’m finished. Then I made the mistake of letting Stapleton know about it. You don’t understand that man. He’s a fiend incarnate; one of those shrewd, scheming individuals who is so smart he’s always one jump ahead.”

  “Do you think that he got the marked money that was given as a bribe?” Zoom asked.

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Do you know where he hid it?”

  “No, he concealed it some place in the house; some place where no one would ever think of looking.”

  “They searched the house?”

  “Yes, they had a warrant and they searched the house.” “What did Stapleton do while they were searching the house?”

  “He stood by and laughed at them; told them Venard had framed up something on the whole outfit; that if they had trusted Venard with ten thousand dollars, they were simply fools.”

  “Did you,” asked Sidney Zoom, “search Venard’s pockets before you left?” “No, of course not. I got in a panic and ran out of the door without thinking. I

  threw some things in a suitcase and went down to the depot. I intended to get out of town. Then I suddenly remembered that I was virtually broke. It’s two days to payday and I had spent all of my money.”

  “You didn’t have any savings?” he asked.

  “I had some,” she said. “They were in one of the banks that closed and didn’t open.”

  The locomotive gave a long, shrill blast on the whistle. The coaches started to rumble as the brakes were applied, and the train slowed. Sidney Zoom placed his face against the cold glass of the window and peered out into the darkness. Then he got to his feet and nodded to the girl.

  “Leave all of your baggage here,” he said. “Come with me.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “We’re going back,” he told her.

  “No,” she said, “I can’t face it—that’s all! They’ll put a murder charge against me and then they’ll hold me on that old embezzlement charge.”

  “Can you prove what happened in that case?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I was just impulsive and foolish and I let them make me the goat.” Sidney Zoom took her arm and piloted her down the length of the swaying car. “Well,” he said, “they’d arrest you before nine o’clock tomorrow morning if you

  tried to get away the way you’re doing now. You’re leaving too broad a back trail. The ticket fellow will remember you, and so will the man at the telegraph office. The first thing the police will do will be to check up on the persons who took the night trains out of town.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “We’re going back by automobile and we’re going to see Stapleton.”

  “See Stapleton?” she gasped.

  Zoom nodded grimly.

  CHAPTER III

  Zoom Accuses

  SIDNEY ZOOM fitted the key to the spring lock of the apartment, pushed the door open, stepped inside and found the lights blazing down upon that which lay on the floor.

  Hastily he kicked the door shut and stood staring about him at the apartment; at the sprawled shape which lay near the window, on the floor.

  Slowly, bit by bit, he started reconstructing the crime. There could be no question that there had been a struggle. Chairs were overturned and a small vase had been broken. The window was open.

  Carefully, Sidney Zoom stepped across the body of the man, to peer out of the window. He could see the fire escape running up the side of the building, like some dark serpent.

  He stepped into the closet and looked over the clothes which hung from the hangers; looked also at the pile of soiled clothes in the corner. Then he returned to the room and stood, as nearly as he could determine, in the position which the man must have occupied when the shot was fired.

  Looking at the angle which the bullet must have traversed, he realized that it would have been impossible for a man to have stood upon the fire escape and fired the shot which had plowed in the dead man’s heart. He stood by the body and looked down at the gun which lay on the floor. Then he peered out of the window once more.

  Finally, he crossed the apartment, switched out the lights, opened the corridor door, walked to the corner of the corridor, around the turn, down four doors, and knocked gently on the door of an apartment.

  There was no answer.

  He knocked again, and when there was still no answer, took some passkeys from his pocket and inserted them carefully in the lock, trying them one at a time. The fourth key clicked back the lock. Sidney Zoom opened the door and stepped into the apartment.

  It was furnished, but apparently untenanted. He switched on the lights, looked the place over and saw that it had not been lived in for some time. The swinging wall bed had a cobweb hanging in such a position that had the bed been pulled out, the cobweb would have been broken. The kitchenette held a musty smell of stale odors which combined into a rancid assault upon the nostrils.

  Zoom walked toward the window of the apartment, knelt down in front of it, and saw that he had a good view of the apartment which had been occupied by Ruby Allison. A chair was drawn up in front of the window, and Sidney Zoom dropped into the chair. As he did so, he let his eyes drift about the floor near the chair, and noticed several little piles of white ash. A wastebasket yielded the stubs of four cigarettes. The cigarettes were all of the same brand—Marlboroughs with cork tips.

  Abruptly, Sidney Zoom straightened, set his jaw in a line of grim determination and strode purposefully toward the door. He pulled it open, clicked the lights out and let the spring latch snap into place as the door closed. He paused in the hallway long enough to consult the address book in which he had jotted down the place where Paul Stapleton resided. Then he left the apartment, got in his roadster, and drove through the deserted streets.

  HE found the house that he wanted, brought his car to a stop, muttered a command to the dog to stay in the car, and walked up the narrow strip of cement which led from the sidewalk to the porch, his feet awakening muffled echoes.

  His long, gaunt forefinger pushed steadily against the bell by the side of the front door, holding it with steady insistence.

  From the interior of the house came the sound of the jangling bell; after a while, the noise of voices and the sound of feet coming down a flight of stairs.

  Sidney Zoom ceased ringing the bell and stepped slightly to one side.

  A bolt clicked back. The door came open a mere two inches, where it was held in position by a brass guard chain. A man’s voice said, “Who is it, and what do you want?”

  “The name is Zoom. And I want to see Mr. Stapleton upon a matter of importance.”

  “Mr. Stapleton has retired,” said the voice.

  “Get him up then,” said Zoom. “I want to see him. It’s important.”

  “It will have to wait until morning.”

  “It won’t wait until morning. I want to see him now.”

  A man’s voice from the back of the corridor said irritably, “What is it, James?”

  “A man who wants to see you, sir.”

  There was the rustle of motion, then a form in pajamas pushed itself up against the narrow crack in the door.

  “What do you want?” said the man.