Her clear, blue gaze locked with his for a number of seconds. Then she arose composedly and said, “I will be happy to leave a check with your secretary.”

Shayne arose with her. “One final thing,” he said as she neared the door. “If you’re serious in believing someone at the Rogell house tried to poison you yesterday, I’d move out of the house fast.”

She turned with her hand on the knob and smiled for the first time since she had entered his office. It was a wintry smile, but a smile none the less. “I am not a complete fool, Mr. Shayne. I took that elementary precaution last night. For the time being, I am occupying a suite at the Waldorf Towers. Where I shall remain until I can return to the house I have lived in for thirty years without fear for my life.” She opened the door and went out with a queer sort of dignity in her mannish stride.

Shayne frowned and went thoughtfully to the water cooler where he withdrew two paper cups and nested them inside each other. Then he opened the second drawer of a steel filing cabinet and lifted out a bottle of cognac, wrestled the cork out with his teeth and poured a moderate portion of amber fluid into the inner cup.

Lucy Hamilton came through the door with flushed cheeks as he returned to his desk and took a tentative, pleasurable sip of cognac.

“I took notes over the inter-com, Michael. Why did you insist that she give you such a large retainer? Do you realize it practically broke her heart to write that check? I don’t see how you think you’re going to find a dog’s grave on the Rogell estate. Do you realize it’s a huge place? Ten or fifteen acres along Brickel Boulevard?”

Shayne said equably, “Five hundred bucks was one way of finding out whether she really believes all the stuff she told me. Get Will Gentry on the phone, angel, and I’ve got a strange hunch you’re going to be the one who finds the dog.”