"Wait," protested Kintyre. "I can't really believe he--" "I'm open to proof," said Clayton. Kintyre fell silent. After a while the girl's voice said in the phone: "I found it, Dr. Kintyre. Right where you told me." "Thanks a lot," he answered automatically. "Would you put it in the safe?" He nodded and hung up. "Good," said Clayton. He spoke slowly and carefully to Owens' bent head: "We'll leave now. You stay around Berkeley for a while. I'm going to have to call your motive to the attention of the police, so if you left there'd probably be a warrant for you by tonight. But I won't say anything about your peccadillo this afternoon. And if you're innocent, I recommend that you start scrounging around for witnesses to where you were all weekend." * * * * * "Whoof!" said Kintyre when he was in the lobby. "I wouldn't like to go through that again." "Nor I," said Clayton. "Let's have something wet." They went into the coffee shop and ordered. Kintyre said: "Owens didn't do the murder. I doubt if he's capable of killing his own flies." "Himself," said Clayton shortly. "He could have hired a torpedo. He's got money enough. Not that killers come fabulously expensive." Almost, Kintyre told him of last night. He stopped with the words at his teeth. After this hour's performance, it seemed too probable that Clayton would insist on telling the San Francisco authorities about Larkin, on the instant, and the consequences to Guido (and thereby to Guido's parents and Corinna) go hang. _As far as that goes, I suppose I've made myself an accessory after the fact or something._ They remained in a companionable silence until the coffee had arrived. It was refreshing to know an unfrantic businessman; but then, Clayton had acquired a lot of European traits. The importer asked suddenly: "Have you seen Miss Towne?" "Not today," said Kintyre, surprised. "Were you planning to?" "Why--yes. I thought I'd drop around this afternoon. She told me she didn't feel up to working for the rest of this week." "It might be better if she did," said Clayton. "She'll sit at home and grieve, or go out and laugh more than she means. Drinking too much in either case." "You seem to know her pretty well," said Kintyre. He felt a bit annoyed, he didn't know why. "I met her a few times is all. But she's pretty transparent, under all that careful sophistication, isn't she?" Clayton stirred his coffee, focusing on the spoon as if it were some precision instrument. "A good kid." "She's all right," said Kintyre. "I suppose you feel an obligation toward her?" Kintyre bridled. "I didn't mean to keyhole," said Clayton hurriedly. "I just couldn't help wondering what'll become of her. Somebody has to help her over the hump. She'll never make it alone."