Rappourt simply looked at him. There was a defeated slump to her shoulders, but her eyes blazed.
Merlini, strangely enough, seemed satisfied with her attitude. “We’ve discovered more than that,” he went on, firing his words at her. “Something that even you haven’t realized. The poison that killed Miss Skelton was in the capsule you gave her. And it wasn’t scopolamine — or sugar. It was cyanide. And yet—” his voice slowed—“I think you believed you were telling the truth when you swore it held nothing but sugar. Do you see what that means?”
On Rappourt’s face fear sprang suddenly and mounted.
“Someone,” Merlini said carefully, “was trying to poison you, Madame Rappourt, not Linda. You should know who that was. You escaped the first time. You might not be so fortunate again — if that person remains at large. I think you had better tell us.”
Merlini stopped there, and waited. Rappourt was motionless. Her eyes flickered once across all our faces and then stared again at Merlini — and beyond him. She said nothing for a moment. Then, when I was beginning to fear she wouldn’t speak at all, her lips moved.
“I—” And she got no further.
Behind Merlini the dark window exploded with a brilliant crash! The sound was close, blasting.
I heard Rappourt’s scream and saw the round dark hole in the window pane in the same instant. Jagged, radiating lines surrounded it.
Gavigan thundered, “Get those lights, somebody!”
I saw the switch and jumped for it.
“Grimm!” Gavigan shouted. “Where the hell—” He pushed up the window, and then threw himself aside as another shot cracked, “The other way, Malloy. Quick!”
Malloy must have simply lowered his head and charged toward the door. I got a smack that left me gasping.
I heard the creak of a window sash and then Watrous’s voice, high, excited, crying, “There he goes!” Quick footsteps pounded on the sun deck, and the Colonel’s short figure dashed past the window making for the sun-deck stairs.
“The damn fool!” Gavigan said. “He’ll get—” But no more shots came. Gavigan went through the window then, and I wasn’t far behind him. Detective Grimm was stretched out, flat and quiet, several feet away. The Inspector and I looked down over the sun-deck rail and saw Watrous in the square of light thrown on the ground from the living-room’s large French window. He stopped and picked up something at his feet. He turned toward the trees. The thing in his hand spit fire, loudly. He fired twice and stopped. Gavigan started over the rail.
“Saw him in the tree,” Watrous said quickly. “He climbed down, threw away his gun, and ran toward—”
From the direction in which Watrous had fired, another shot came. And, as Gavigan and I landed together heavily on the ground, Watrous took one backward step that was never completed. He fell slowly, his body turning. Then Gavigan’s gun exploded.
The sound of running, retreating footsteps came clearly. Gavigan shot forward from his crouching position like a runner leaving the mark, hurdled the still body lying in the center of the yellow square of light, and ran toward the trees.
I reached Watrous an instant later and saw the dark liquid stain spreading across his breast. I pulled the gun from his limp fingers, and ran after Gavigan.
I heard his gun crack out again, and then suddenly we were on the boathouse path. Before us was a dark figure, running. It stopped briefly, two bright flashes flared back at us, and the figure vanished in the deep shadows at the side of the path. I felt my own gun kick back suddenly with solid force against my palm. I heard footsteps pounding behind us and Malloy’s voice, “He’s trying to make the boathouse!”
As my longer legs began leaving Gavigan behind, he said, “Sprint for it, Ross. Carter has no gun!”
I did my best. I didn’t tell Gavigan that I’m a lousy shot. I was within 20 feet of the boathouse when I saw our quarry again. He jumped suddenly into view, crossing the open space toward the wooden steps that led down the 10-foot drop to the landing. He was going great guns as he reached the head of the stairs and then — he seemed to do an odd sort of D.D. Home levitation and immediately vanished, like Merlini’s half dollar, into thin air!
I put all I had into those last few yards. A glow of light appeared below me as I pulled up short at the head of the steps. On the boards at my feet, and trailing off down the steps, lay a length of rope. Carter stood just at the foot of the steps. He held a flashlight and was addressing a prone figure on the walk before him.
“The Great Indian Rope Trick,” he was saying. “Hope you liked it.”
Gavigan, breathing heavily, stopped beside me, looked, and then vaulted down the steps.
Carter looked up. “Got him, Inspector. Figured he’d head this way. Rigged a line across the top of the steps and pulled it tight when he arrived. First-rate somersault he did, too. But he landed wrong way up.” There was no sympathy in Carter’s voice.
Gavigan knelt down. I saw the shine of handcuffs and heard the metallic clicking of the ratchet as it was drawn tight. The still figure stirred slightly, and groaned.
“And that,” Gavigan said bitterly, “will be enough out of you, Mr. Charles Lamb.”
Chapter Twenty:
HANDCUFFS
As Carter pulled Lamb to his feet, Gavigan said in an icy voice, “If you’ve done anything to Grimm or Muller that can’t be fixed — so help me, I’ll pull the switch at your hot-seat party myself.” And he meant it.
But Grimm seemed to be convalescent. We met him, running toward us as we started back. Quinn was with him.
“Muller?” Gavigan asked at once.
Their looks were both blank at first. Then they saw who was wearing the cuffs. Quinn turned wordlessly and sped back toward the house.
“Did he get Rappourt?” Gavigan asked.
Grimm shook his head. “No. Heard Merlini say it was a miss by nearly two feet.”
“Watrous have any chance?”
“No. He got it right in the ticker.”
“And what the blue blazing hell,” Gavigan bellowed, all his concern over Grimm’s welfare suddenly gone, “were you doing out on that sun deck? Taking a beauty nap?”
“I was not,” Grimm replied stiffly. “And I’d like to know just how this big cheese—” he indicated Lamb who was being pulled hurriedly along between Gavigan and Malloy—“managed to sneak up on me so damn quiet. One minute there wasn’t a soul in sight on that sun deck; I was watching the stairway, too. The next thing I knew, I saw stars, and then Quinn was trying to bring me out of it, and I heard someone shooting a long way off. I’ve got a beaut of a splitting headache, and I’ll forget about all those off days I’ve got coming if you’ll just let me take one good—”