And always he saw the same thing--saw the seat cushion give a little as though someone had sat down there, next to him. He saw it now. "Damn you--damn you----" he cried brokenly. The motor of the coupé was thrumming, responding to the mechanical touch of his foot to the starter. The depression in the seat beside him shifted a little. "_You'll go back to hell where you came from!_" Like another person, Gruin heard those words keen from his lips. Like another person he heard the motor roar into full-throated power as his foot jammed down on the accelerator. "No," he breathed, as his hand slid the gear-shift lever into first. Like another person, pleading, remonstrating--and being unheeded. "No!" The motor bellowed, the coupé's tires screamed as they felt full and sudden power applied. The car leaped forward. "_Oh, my God, no_----" The car, nearly two tons of steel, hit the concrete wall with all the power of the great motor, in first gear, behind it--hit the wall, crumpled, then crunched on through. The thunder of the coupé's crash on the rock far below shocked the late February afternoon.... * * * * * Remorse, they called it. Eldon Gruin was so weighed down by the carelessness that had taken a life that he had gone to the scene of the accident and committed suicide by driving his car over the same cliff. That was what was in the papers. What was not in them was something else; something that puzzled detectives for a while, till they gave it up as irrelevant, since they had no knowledge of the little red heels of Maria that had clicked beside Gruin from the time of her death. That was, the curious thing found in each heel of each shoe that Eldon Gruin owned--a little sliding weight that had been inserted and re-covered by some deft cobbler. They didn't move when the shoes were handled, unless they were shifted briskly up and down as a person walking would move them. Then they made small clicking noises in unison with the movements....