"Nuts to you, Buddy," she rejoined. "Then you kept pulling at your ear as though you were milking a cow, while I was needling you. Winnie never did that. When he was in a spot, he always reached in his pocket and jingled his change or, as a desperate measure, twiddled his keys." "Don't judge my habits by my hang-overs," I insisted. "I'm not feeling well and I've had a sort of psychic shock." "Winnie never said 'psychic' in his life, poor lamb," she observed. "He didn't know what it meant. No, I don't know what your game is but I'm on to you and we're going to be real buddies from now on or--" "Or what?" "The police," she observed quietly, "take a dim view of murder in this state. Now I'm willing to be broad-minded. Winnie was a louse who had it coming to him, I guess. I was playing him for a quick divorce and marriage. Three million dollars is a lot of money, even in these days, and it would have been nice to have been married to it. But it's even nicer this way, I guess." The decanter was within reach. I poured myself another drink. "Have some?" I asked. "And why not? What's yours is mine, and we both need it." "Why did you say it was nicer this way, Mrs. Rutherford?" I inquired. "Virginia to you, Winnie. It's because now I don't have to marry you and I still have a pipe-line to the Tompkins millions." "So you _are_ going in for blackmail," I observed. "Suppose I threatened to divorce Jimmie and marry you. After all, I still could." "A girl has her pride," she murmured. "Not that I'd mind having fun with you, Winnie--as I think I'd better call you. But a wife can't give testimony against her husband and I think I'd rather like to be able to give testimony if needed. Besides, a husband has too many opportunities to help the undertaker. There are accidents in bath-tubs and garages, medicines get mixed up in the bathroom cabinet and there is always the old-fashioned hatchet. No, since you've managed to get rid of the other Winnie, somehow, I think I'll keep a safe distance and my silence, as long as you make it worth my while." "Suppose I won't play?" I suggested. "Then I'll go to the police or the F.B.I.--they're supposed to catch kidnappers, aren't they?--and tell them what I know." I stood up. This would be easier than I had expected. "Okay, Virginia," I said, "go right ahead. There's the telephone. You can use it to call the Secret Service for all I care. See what luck you have with your story, when my wife is here to testify that I'm Winnie Tompkins." Her face paled and her eyes narrowed angrily. "Jimmie too?" she asked. "Then you're both in it!" "We're both in what?" The door opened and Germaine Tompkins stood in the entrance. Virginia Rutherford looked trapped and she instinctively pulled her mink back over her shoulders.