Three traveling-bags stood in partially unpacked disarray near the door. A fitted overnight bag lay open on the brocaded bench before the vanity, and there were toilet articles scattered out in front of the mirror. Half carrying the girl, Shayne moved to the vanity. There was an open hammered-silver jewel case holding a miscellany of personal jewelry. An elaborately tooled handbag of gray leather lay beside the jewel case.

Shayne opened it with his free hand and dumped its contents out. There was a lipstick and compact, a wad of bills, and a neatly folded cablegram, a small leather key-tainer. He smoothed the cablegram out and read it with a frown.

HAVE VERIFIED AUTHENTICITY AND WILL RETURN IMMEDIATELY USUAL ROUTE CABLE WHETHER NEW YORK OR MIAMI

HENDERSON

It had been sent from London a week before, to Mrs. Rufus Brighton in New York. Penciled on the bottom were the words: Will meet you in Miami.

Shayne stuffed the cablegram in his pocket. Phyllis Brighton stirred inside the circle of his arm and began moaning. He led her to the door, put both his hands on her shoulders and shook her. Her eyes came open, and she stopped moaning.

“Where is your room?” Shayne formed each word distinctly.

She shook her head as though too dazed to understand, but reached falteringly for the doorknob. Shayne switched off the light and closed the door. Phyllis moved stiffly ahead of him down the hall to another door which stood partly ajar and which she entered.

A bed lamp burned at the head of a bed which he saw had lately been occupied. On the rug beside the bed lay a large wooden-handled butcher knife. The blade was stained red, and the grip was smeared with blood.

Shayne pushed Phyllis down on the bed and stared at the knife. Then he looked at her and asked, “Is that what you did it with?” His face and voice were expressionless.

She shuddered and did not look at the knife. “I just woke up and-and there it was. I-don’t know. I guess-it must be.”