A few minutes to half-past eight the next morning, Ken stopped his car at the corner of Marshall Avenue where he could see down the road. He waited a few minutes, then he saw Parker open his gate and come towards him.

The usual spritely snap had gone out of Parker's walk. He came towards Ken as if it were an effort to drag one foot after the other. He looked pale, haggard and depressed.

Ken got out of the car.

"I thought I'd give you a lift to the bank," he said awkwardly.

Parker started and stared at him.

"Of all the d.a.m.n nerve!" he said angrily. "You can't go to the bank! The police are looking for you. Now look here, Holland, you've got to give yourself up. I can't have you with me all day, not knowing when the police are coming to arrest you. I won't have it!"

"Keep your shirt on," Ken said. "I've been to the police and explained. They caught the killer last night, and I'm in the clear."

Parker gaped.

"They got the killer? Then you didn't do it?"

"Of course not, you dope!"

"Oh! Well, I don't want anything more to do with you. You're a d.a.m.ned dangerous influence. You've ruined my home."

Ken asked the question that had been torturing him for the past few hours: "Did you tell your wife I went to see Fay?"

"Tell her?" Parker's voice shot up. "Of course not! You don't think I'd tell her I gave you an introduction to a tart, do you? It's bad enough now, but she would never have forgiven me."

Ken drew in a deep breath of relief. He suddenly grinned, and clumped Parker on his back.

"Then this lets me out!" he said. "You'll keep quiet about this to Ann, won't you?"

Parker scowled at him.

"I don't see why both of us should be in the soup. It'd serve you d.a.m.n well right if I did tell her, but I won't."

"Honest?" Ken said, looking at him.

"Yes," Parker growled. "No need for the two of us to be in the doghouse."

"That's swell. Brother! I've been sweating it out since I had her letter. I heard this morning. She's coming back in five days' time. Her mother's going into a home. She should have gone weeks ago, and now Ann's persuaded her. She's coming back next Monday."

Parker grunted.

"It's all right for you, but I'm in a h.e.l.l of a fix."

"How's Maisie this morning?"

Parker shook his head.

"She's looking like a saint with indigestion. She's horribly quiet and polite and distant. I'll be in the doghouse for months before she gets over it."

"Buy her an expensive present: a fur coat for the winter," Ken suggested.

"That's right: spend my money for me. How can I afford a fur coat?"

"You were a mug to have told her, anyway. You needn't have. If you had used your head you could have cooked up some yarn."

Parker nodded gloomily.

"I know. I've been thinking about that. I was a mug, but that sergeant rattled me."

"We can't stand here all day. Get in if you want to."

"Well, all right," Parker said, and got into the car. "But don't think it'll ever be the same between us, because it won't."

"Oh, shut up!" Ken said shortly. "You started the mess and you got what was coming to you."

Parker gave him a surprised glance. He noticed Ken appeared to have acquired more character overnight. He looked tougher, more confident, and not the kind of man you'd push around.

"Who killed her?" Parker asked. "What happened?"

"I know as much as you do," Ken lied. "I went to the police station, told the Lieutenant that I had been with Fay last night and waited to be arrested. He told me to go home as they had the killer. I didn't wait for a second invitation. I went."

"I thought you had a good story for me," Parker said, disappointed. "That's d.a.m.n dull."

"I guess it is," Ken said, his face expressionless.

As they drove into the parking lot behind the bank, Parker said, "Are you going to tell Arm what happened?"

Ken shook his head.

"You may be a mug," he said as he got out of the car, "but I'm not."

V.

Five days later, Ken stood on the platform waiting for the train that was bringing Ann home.

He was feeling particularly virtuous. For the past four evenings he had worked ceaselessly in the bungalow and in the garden. All the various jobs that Ann had been asking him to do for the past months, and which he had put off, had been done. The garden had never looked better. The kitchen had been decorated. The windows had been cleaned. The broken hinge on the gate had been repaired; even the car had been polished.

The newspapers had been full of the shootings. The City's Administration had come under fire, and several prominent members had resigned, among them Captain Joe Motley, who felt that his work was becoming too arduous for his easygoing methods. Lindsay Burt's name kept cropping up in the papers as the next likely political leader, and the Herald was prophesying that Lieutenant Adams would shortly be elected Captain of Police.

For the first time since Ken had found Fay's dead body, he felt safe. With a feeling of intense excitement, he watched the train come slowly along the track.

He caught sight of Ann's blonde head as she leaned out of the window. They waved frantically to each other. A few moments later he had her in his arms.

"Oh Ken!"

"Darling, I've missed you!"

There was a babble of talk, both too happy to listen to what the other was saying.

"Have you been all right?" Ann asked, when eventually they calmed down. She looked up at him and was puzzled by his thinness, the sterner look about his mouth that gave him character and which she found attractive.

"Of course I've been fine," Ken said, grinning at her.

"But, darling, you look different. There's something about you . . ."

"Nonsense!" Ken said. "Come on. Let's get your luggage organized."

Later as they drove out of the railway depot in the shabby green Lincoln, Ann said, "Have you been lonely, Ken? Did you go out - do any shows ?"

"My dear girl, I haven't had time for shows," Ken said virtuously. "I've been busy in the bungalow. I've decorated the kitchen, looked after the garden and generally worked my fingers to the bone."

Ann looked at him, her eyes suddenly thoughtful.

"It sounds very much as if you had been up to mischief. It's nothing serious, is it?"

"The trouble with you is you have a suspicious mind," Ken said, avoiding her eyes. "Besides, is it likely I would tell you if I had been into mischief? I admit I did think of going off with some woman, but I just didn't have the time."

Ann leaned forward and kissed him.

"You've had your chance, Ken. I'm not leaving you again."

"That's no way to behave when I'm driving. Wait until we get home." He put his hands on hers and squeezed it. "I don't want you ever to go away again. Now tell me what's been happening to you."

He listened while she talked, and he felt at peace with the world. She need never know, he told himself. It would never happen again. He had had a narrow escape, and he had learned his lesson.

"Well, here we are," he said, as he pulled up outside the bungalow. "Take a look at the garden. How's that for hard work? And don't miss the gate. It works now."

"Darling. I think I'd better go away again after all," Ann said, standing at the gate and looking at the weedless garden, the close-cut lawn and the clean-cut edges. "It looks wonderful, and the windows have been cleaned."

"Just part of the service," Ken said, as he struggled with her luggage getting it out of the car.

Ann gave a sudden exclamation.

"Oh, Ken, you darling! Is this your big surprise? How lovely!"

Ken followed the direction of her pointing finger.

On the doorstep, its bulging eyes looking fixedly at Ken, was a fawn Pekinese.

The End