Toddy's eyes fell, and his shoulders drooped. He leaned forward a little, disconsolately, his wrists resting on his knees.
"Do not try it, Mr. Kent."
"You won't shoot," said Toddy. "Someone might hear it."
"Someone might," Alvarado nodded, "but I will shoot if necessary."
"I want to ask a question."
"Quickly, then. And lean back!"
"I know this man didn't kill Elaine. He was with me at the time. But he had her killed, didn't he?"
"He did not. It was the last thing he would have wanted."
"Put it this way. He knew the watch was in our room. He sent someone to get it. Elaine put up a fight, and the guy killed her."
Alvarado shook his head. "This man, with more money than he can spend, would go to such lengths for a watch?… And that is two questions you have asked."
"All right, then," Toddy persisted, "she'd found out something about him. She tried to work some blackmail and-"
"She did not," interrupted Alvarado. "Let me repeat, he did not want your wife dead. And now, stand up!"
"All right." Toddy got carefully to his feet. "What about giving the departing guest a drink?"
"Of course." Alvarado did not hesitate for so much as an instant. "The cellarette is there… and the carafe is heavy. It would be futile to attempt to throw it."
"I don't intend to," said Toddy, honestly.
"And instead of the large drink, which you doubtless desire, take two very small ones. Not enough, to be explicit, to have any effect if thrown."
Toddy sidled along the lounge to the corner cellarette. His eyes watchful, apprehensive, he turned his back on the chinless man and picked up the carafe.
Toddy tipped the carafe and slopped a fraction of an ounce of brandy into a highball glass. He raised it, holding his breath; but Chinless apparently was also holding his. Either that or he hadn't moved: he was still standing by the desk.
Toddy lowered the glass, his thumb pressing with restrained firmness toward the lip. It gave against the pressure; a little more and it would break. But would it break as it had to-and when it had to? There wouldn't be time to turn. The blow would have to be on its way down. If it wasn't, Alvarado would shoot. He'd have to, and he would.
Toddy set the glass down again, rattling the carafe against it as he poured his second drink. He heard it, then: an almost imperceptible squeak of the floor, all but masked by the sound of the glassware.
He lifted the glass, pressing steadily, harder. Suddenly there was no resistance to his thumb, and he heard the swift uprush of air; and he thrust the broken glass up and back, dropping into a crouch in the same split second.
The glass exploded in his hand. His whole arm went numb. There was a wild curse of pain and the clatter of metal against wood. He whirled, awkward in his crouch, and threw himself at the gun. Alvarado kicked him solidly in the solar plexus. He sprawled, paralyzed, and Alvarado kicked him again. He lay fighting for breath, every nerve screaming with shock.
Alvarado picked up the gun. Cursing frightfully as it slipped in his grasp, he shifted it to his left hand. He advanced on Toddy, his right hand scarlet, dripping with blood.
"It is bad, eh, Mr. Kent? But do not worry about it. I will bind it up in a minute. A very few minutes… Actually I am grateful for what you did. What was a painful duty now becomes a pleasure."
He grasped Toddy's ankle with the lacerated hand, grimaced painfully, and dragged him toward the hall door. "Do not resist me, Mr. Kent. Make no overt move. If it should mean my instant death, I would not hesitate…"
Toddy didn't try anything. He couldn't. It was still a desperate struggle to get his breath.
"Now…" Alvarado opened the door, tugged him through it, panting, and kicked it shut again. "Now-" Alvarado regrasped his ankle, backed and dragged him down the hallway. His eyes glinted insanely. He was incoherent with fury.
"Now, you will see, Mr. Kent… You will be one of the dogs. Pobre Perrito's twin, yes. The one the obliging gentleman from the crematory did not see… Dolores was to have served, but it will be all right. The added weight is excusable. It is the practice, the gentleman tells me, to enclose the pet's belongings… the bed… the eating and drinking receptacles… So many things and such big dogs…"
He opened a second door, tugged furiously, and slammed it shut. And Toddy knew at last the reason for the chinless man's perfume.
The air was heavy with the odor of chloroform. The room with its tightly closed windows swam with its sickening-sweet stench.
Alvarado released his ankle, and Toddy tried to sit up. He fell back, groaning, and his head banged against the wall. He lay there, not quite prone, staring dully at the two long pine boxes on the floor. Alvarado chuckled.
He had wiped his sweating face, and now it and his hand were both scarlet. He was smeared with blood; his face was a hideous, blood-smeared mask.
The mask crinkled in a mirthless grin, and he picked up a hammer from one of the boxes. He hefted it in his hand, gazing steadily at Toddy, inching a little toward him. And then he burst into another laugh.
"Do not worry, Mr. Kent. There is nothing to worry about yet. I would first have you observe something…"
He inserted the claw of the hammer between one of the boxes and its lid. He pried downward, moved the hammer, reinserted the claw and pried again.
"You do not understand, eh?" he panted. "So much effort-so much more, thanks to you. Why not, simply, since I am leaving, leave the bodies here? It is this way"- he wiped, smeared, his face again-"there is always the chance of some flaw in planning; the possibility of apprehension. And murder is regarded much more seriously than smuggling. But even without that, without error or misfortune, there would be great unpleasantness. Your squeamish countrymen would be outraged, your newspapers vocal. In the end, my government might be faced with demands for my person…"
He laid down the hammer and tugged at the lid with his hand. Wincing, he looked carefully at Toddy. He nodded, satisfied with what he saw, and dropped the gun into his pocket. He grasped the lid with both hands, pulled and swung it open on its hinges.
"Now," he said, and started to stoop. "No," he shook his head. "She must lie on the bottom. Otherwise…"
Picking up the hammer, he turned to the other box and began unsealing its lid. The gun remained in his pocket, but the fact meant nothing to Toddy. He was breathing more easily, but he still felt paralyzed.
"Evidence…" Alvarado was murmuring. "But there will be none, not a particle; only ashes scattered to the winds… Strong suspicions, yes, but no evidence. Nothing to act upon…"
The lid swung free. Alvarado lifted out the girl, held her for a moment, then shrugged and tossed her to the bed. "Still alive, like the dog doubtless. It does not matter. I will prepare another sponge, and it has several hours to work."
He started to turn. Then, catching Toddy's eye, he nodded solemnly.