reporters get in don't talk to them. I don't want that damned foreigner reading in the papers what's going on
here. I'd give my job to have him in that chair for five minutes now."
Graham cleared his throat.
"I scarcely know how to suggest this, since it is sufficiently clear, because of Howells's suspicions, that you
have Mr. Blackburn under close observation. But he has a fair idea of Paredes's habits, his haunts, and his
friends in New York. He might be able to learn things the police couldn't. I've one or two matters to take me
to town. I would make myself personally responsible for his return--"
The district attorney interrupted.
"I see what you mean. Wait a minute."
He clasped his hands and rolled his fat thumbs one around the other. The little eyes, surrounded by puffy
flesh, became enigmatic. All at once he glanced up with a genial smile.
"Why not? I haven't said anything about holding Mr. Blackburn as more than a witness."
His tone chilled Bobby as thoroughly as a direct accusation would have done.
"And," Robinson went on, "the sooner you go the better. The sooner you get back the better."
Graham was visibly puzzled by this prompt acquiescence. He started for the stairs, but the district attorney
waved him aside.
"Coats and hats are downstairs. No need wasting time."
Graham turned to Doctor Groom.
"You'll tell Miss Perrine, Doctor?"
The doctor showed that he understood the warning Graham wished to convey.
The district attorney made a point of walking to the stable to see them off. Graham gestured angrily as they
drove away.
"It's plain as the nose on your face. I was too anxious to test their attitude toward you, Bobby. He jumped at
the chance to run us out of the house. He'll have several hours during which to turn the place upside down, to
give Katherine the third degree. And we can't go back. We'll have to see it through."
"Why should he give me a chance to slip away?" Bobby asked.
But before long he realized that Robinson was taking no chances. At the junction of the road from Smithtown
a car picked them up and clung to their heels all the way to the city.
"Rawlins must have telephoned," Graham said, "while we went to the stable. They're still playing Howells's
game. They'll give you plenty of rope."
He drove straight to Bobby's apartment. The elevator man verified their suspicions. Robinson had telephoned
the New York police for a search. A familiar type of metropolitan detective met them in the hall outside
Bobby's door.