He went into the bedroom and he saw Carven, the big shot detective. He saw the two cops in there and he saw the valet, and then the corpse of Harry Duggin. Carven had the valet by the back of the neck. Carven was a big man and he was forcing the valet to look down at Harry Duggin's dead face. Carven was saying, "Look at him. He's dead. Do you get that? He's dead. You called us in here and you figured that would automatically put you out of the picture. And you told us that a guy by the name of Frey came in here this morning and killed him. But Frey's an old pal of mine. Frey's a private dick--a lousy one, reckless and careless, but still he's a dick and your story didn't go. You killed Duggin--why--why--?" Not only was Carven big, he was plenty tough. He gave the valet a short left and a mean right to the ribs. The valet broke. "I--I killed him," he said, and it turned into a sob. "I--I wanted something that he owned--" "What was it?" Carven said. He raised his head, clipped to one of the cops, "Take this down." The valet was sobbing, saying, "He had a fortune in little marble statues. He was always talking about those marble statues, telling me how priceless they were. He--kept talking about those statues all the time, telling me that the greatest sculptress in the world made them--and that money couldn't buy them. That's all he talked about--the statues made by Tess Rillette. He--drove it into me--made me crazy with the desire to own them. I--I--put a knife into him--" Carven grinned. He looked at the cops and said, "Pretty fast, wasn't it? We came in on this case exactly two and a half hours ago. I can well imagine what happened to that wise guy Frey. He came in here this morning and he saw Duggin lying dead in bed and he figured he'd go out with his stooge Mogin and do big things. I'd like to see his face when he finds out--" Then he turned and saw Frey's face. * * * * * Mogin was talking loud and fast. He was saying, "What're you crying the blues about? It was just a bad break, that's all. And at least we pinned something on somebody. We got that smart bird Lasseroe locked up for fake art manipulations, and--" They were walking toward the coupe. Frey was shaking his head and his head was hanging low. He said, "Can we make a late double feature?" "Sure," Mogin said. He put his heavy hand on Frey's shoulder and said, "It's a good idea. We'll go to the movies and get it off our minds. Don't worry, pal. Better days are coming. Hey--where you goin'?" Frey was walking away from the coupe, toward a corner drug store. "I'll be right back," he said. "I just want to go in here and take an aspirin. It'll help me wait for the better days." THE COP WAS A COWARD by WILBUR S. PEACOCK Johnny Burke had the making of a fine cop in him ... but there was something mighty strange about Johnny Burke--something mighty strange! [Illustration]