"I've spent a year looking around. I know a hell of a lot more about Timmy Warden, the way he lived, the way his mind worked, than you'll ever know. And I can't find it." "Then I won't be able to either, will I?" "Then you better take off, Howard. Go back where you came from." "I think I'll stay around." He leaned forward. "Then you do have some little clue that I don't have. Maybe it isn't a very good one." "I don't know any more than you do. I just have more confidence in myself than I have in you." That made him laugh. The laughter stung my pride. It was a ludicrous thought to him that I could do anything in the world he couldn't do. "You've wasted better than a year on it. At least I haven't done that," I said hotly. He shrugged. "I have to be somewhere. It might as well be here. What's wasted about it? I've got a good job. Let's pool everything we know and can remember, and if we can locate it I'll give you a third." "No," I said, too quickly. He sat very still and watched me. "You have something to work on." "No. I don't." "You can end up with nothing instead of a third." "Or all of it instead of a third." "Finding it and taking it away from here are two different problems." "I'll take that chance." He shrugged. "Well, suit yourself. Go and say hello to George. Give him my regards." "And Eloise?" "You won't be able to do that. She took off while we were still behind the wire. Took off with a salesman, they say." "Maybe she took the money with her." "I don't think so." "But she knew Timmy was hiding it, had hidden a big amount. From what he said about her, she wouldn't leave without it." "She did," he said, smiling. "Take my word. She left without it." TWO The lumberyard had looked reasonably prosperous. The retail hardware store was not what I expected. From talks with Timmy I had expected a big place with five or six clerks and a stock that ranged from appliances and cocktail trays to deep-well pumps and pipe wrenches. It was a narrow, dingy store, poorly lighted. There was an air of dust and defeat about it. It was on a side street off the less prosperous looking end of Delaware Street. A clerk in a soiled shirt came to help me. I said I wanted to see Mr. Warden. The clerk pointed back toward a small office in the rear where through glass I could see a man hunched over a desk.