“Poison is my guess,” he said. “We’ll find out where it came from soon enough. You’ve run it too close, Miss Mdevani. I shall have to examine the remainder of that sleeping drug you so kindly offered. _If_ it’s still in your possession. Hmmm! No you don’t, lady—stand where you are.”
“I’m sorry to have frightened you,” Nadia drew back and spoke with slow venom. “I merely thought to assist you. You’ll find it in the middle compartment of my handbag.” With her eyes she indicated the bag on the dresser. “Are you—alone?” she added.
“Quite alone, Miss Mdevani. But not for long I assure you.” Belknap went to the telephone: (“Operator, give me 40. Thanks. Police Headquarters? Give me Sergeant Stebbins. Oh, that you, Stebbins? You’d better come up. Your catch has gone the way of all flesh—which, in this house, means he has been murdered. But I have a good substitute. So come along and help me. Right.”) He hung up.
“You should? Why? My opinion is that I make a better father confessor.”
“I’m sure of it. I prefer a layman that’s all—as safer in the long run.”
How he admired her Custer stand. He knew, if she didn’t, that she was literally at the end of her rope. He hadn’t a doubt in his mind that her bag contained the poison. This poisoning business was always such a risky affair. He felt convinced that in the excitement she had neglected to exchange the contents of the bottle. Yet she was boldly facing it out to the last ditch. It was proving a gallant fight, if a criminal’s fight can be called gallant. And, admiring her, he wanted her more than ever. His eyes absorbed her as she stood there slim and taut, outlined in the light that, being shielded from Crawford, fell directly upon her. She wore a clinging dress of bitter-sweet red. It shaped her narrow hips, her lovely forward drooping shoulders. There were slippers to match the dress; coral in her ears; a half dozen barbaric coral bracelets high on her arm; a large bloodstone ring on her index finger. She seemed not so much savage as heathen, a descendant of Attila. It was a thousand pities, Belknap thought, to have her broken in this sordid fashion: law courts, disgrace, and, short of death, a prison. How much more fun to break her himself, in a man’s way. But it was too late now. The cards were stacked against her, and he didn’t need her enough to follow her lead to Hell. He drew a breath and relinquished her.