Oh my God, It moved again! Too close this time for _any_ escape. Of course It knew she was there. That’s what It was here for. Where was Julian? Why had he left her? The last image of her open eyes had been of Julian sitting near her—the last image of her mind’s eye had been of him still leaning over her, watching her drift into sleep. For one flash she considered It as Julian. No-no-no-no-no. _No_, he may have been a murderer once, but he wasn’t doing this to her now—he wasn’t, he wasn’t. It was—was the one she knew had killed the others: Blake, Romany, her uncle. It was— And then, with relief not even to have to _think_ the name, she suddenly yielded, and gratefully drank in the faint sweet odor of a cloth that was thrown across her face and bound at the back of her head. The little rodent, with its petrified eyes and thudding heart, couldn’t have stood the thudding, as of a motor too powerful for the body, another conscious second.
Detective Lieutenant Silas Berry of the New York Homicide Squad was fine-tooth-combing Romany’s room for possible clues.
“Mr.—Inspector—Lieutenant Berry.” Julian was inclined to embarrassment. “Can you spare me a few minutes? I want to talk.”
Berry laid his magnifying glass on the dresser.
“Nothing would please me more, boy,” he said cheerfully, folding his arms and leaning against the bed post. “As you have undoubtedly observed, we detectives just sit around waiting for someone to be kind enough to confess and save our faces with a critical public. What’s on your mind? I think it was you, Prentice,” he continued without interruption, “who thought there were two shots fired at Whittaker this morning. Not that he didn’t deserve a dozen to judge by the shambles he’s made of the place by that betrayal of poor old Crawford. Are you still of the same opinion about those shots in spite of Mr. Belknap’s equal certainty to the contrary?”
Julian was filling his pipe with unsteady fingers in an effort to cover his excitement and pleasure at Berry’s tone of easy, natural camaraderie!
“Yes, Mr. Berry. I am. But I admit my willingness to be proved mistaken by anyone but Mr. Belknap.”
“I’ve remarked that you and Mr. Belknap don’t exactly see eye to eye.” Berry’s lips twitched in a half-smile. “Or is it that you’ve sighted identically, to the point of interference—had _you_ hit on the Dorn solution too? You don’t fancy such a formidable rival, is that it?”