Beginning with a Bash. Phoebe Atwood Taylor

was tops. Get it?”

      “Ah—” Leonidas twirled his pince-nez. “Ah. M’yes. I begin to see it. Martin said he was alone at the museum when the bonds arrived, but North might well have had access to the place of which Martin was ignorant. Assume, then, that North was in the museum, that he took the bonds, then hid them away till all this should blow over. Then, because he was absent-minded, he made a map of the place where he concealed the bonds, and put it in a safe place. And the safe place was probably Volume Four, which—”

      “Which God knows nobody would ever read with a name like that,” Gerty concluded. “Bill, you’re a bright lad. We doped all that out, too. Well, that was a couple of weeks ago, and since then North’s been goofy. Didn’t know which end he was on. Steaming around finding fault with everything. What a life I been leading!”

      “So,” Leonidas looked at Freddy, “so you set out on your own hook to have a try at finding Volume Four?”

      “Yeah. Gert wrote down the name with North’s typewriter. Hell, I couldn’t say a name like that!”

      “And your idea was to get the book before North did, see if it really had any clue to the bonds that North might have taken—and get to them first?”

      “That’s it.”

      “Hm. I wonder why North, after discovering that the book was missing, didn’t go get the bonds without all this dithering around?”

      “You don’t know North, Bill. He probably forgot.”

      “Impossible,” Leonidas said. “Impossible.”

      “Honest,” Gerty insisted. “He’d forget his head if it wasn’t sewed on to the rest of him. The guy just plain forgot where the place was.”

      “M’yes. Well, possibly—Freddy, why don’t we team up?”

      “Huh?”

      “You want the money, and I want to clear Jones. Whoever killed North must have known, although the good Lord knows how, about Volume Four and the bonds. I fully intend to find the person. I—er—have no interest in the money. Is it worth your while to aid us for the next twenty-four hours or so, Freddy, on the strength of finding forty grand in the end? All I ask is—er—one grand with which to exonerate Martin.”

      “Bill,” Freddy said in admiration, “you got a brain. You got this in five minutes, and it took me and Gert a couple of days. When do we start?”

      “Presently. But, Freddy, I—if I’m not asking a very personal question, how do you reconcile—I mean, how do your group and Miss McInnis’s brother’s get along? If I remember correctly, Mr. Bugatti said there was considerable tension between the Solano group and the McInnis organization.”

      “We don’t agree,” Freddy said briefly. Leonidas, recalling the amount of blood shed between the two mobs, considered Freddy’s few words a miracle of understatement.

      “You see,” Gerty explained, “I didn’t know who Freddy was when I first met him. Not any more than he didn’t know who I was. Gee, did we have a time, and have we had a time since! Bat’s sworn he’s going to get Freddy, and Freddy’s been having trouble with his boys on account of me. The whole thing’s none of their business, I say. None of those gorillas understand what is real love.”

      Dot swallowed.

      “You mean that Bat is after you, Freddy?” Leonidas asked.

      “Yeah, but don’t let it worry you none, Bill. My boys always stick around, just in case.”

      Dot swallowed again.

      “You—Bill Shakespeare,” she said at last, “what did I tell you? Bill, I say, let’s get—”

      The front knocker began to set up a thunderous tattoo that sounded throughout the house.

      “Bat!” Gerty gasped. “That’s Bat! He never uses the doorbell! He always bangs—”

      “Go to the door,” Leonidas commanded, “and get rid of him. Tell him about the murder of North, and say that the police are on their way here, and that you’re waiting for them, and expect them any moment! Hurry!”

      He tossed the contents of the ash trays into his hat, picked up the rubbers which he, Dot and Freddy had kicked off, hurriedly pulled a small rug over the little puddles of water on the floor.

      “Come!”

      He grabbed Dot by the arm, and hustled her and Freddy out towards the dining-room as Gerty hissed something about kitchen closets.

      “Aw, let me get at that mug!” Freddy protested. “Don’t hide from him, Bill! Let me at him! There ain’t no sense in keepin’ puttin’ it off—”

      “Later.” Leonidas shoved him into the kitchen closet, pushed Dot in after him, and finally wedged in himself, shutting the door behind him.

      “Bill,” Freddy sounded plaintive, “why can’t I—”

      “Later!” Leonidas repeated in a whisper. “Later, after you’ve got your forty grand. Don’t spoil things now, Freddy! Be sensible! Be reasonable!”

      Dumbly they listened to Bat McInnis’s entrance.

      “Where’s that wop! I’m goin’ to pump that greaseball full of slugs!”