Beads of sweat
stood on his high, narrow forehead.
"I walked over from the Country Club, after eighteen holes of golf with
your _superior_, the district attorney," Drake answered, with nasty
emphasis. "I left the clubhouse at 5:10, calculating that it would take
me about twenty minutes for the walk of--of about a mile."
Dundee made a mental note to find out exactly how far from this lonely
house in Primrose Meadows the Country Club actually was, but his next
question was along another line:
"You _walked_, Mr. Drake?--after eighteen holes of golf on a warm day?"
Drake flushed. "My wife had the car. I had driven out with Mr.
Sanderson, but he was called away by a long distance message. I lingered
at the club for a while, chatting and--er--having a cool drink or two,
then I set out afoot."
"No one offered you a lift?" Dundee inquired suavely.
"No. I presume my fellow-members thought I had my car with me, and I
asked no one for a lift, for I rather fancied the idea of a walk across
the meadows."
"I see," said Dundee thoughtfully. "Now as to your arrival here--"
"I walked in. The door had been left on the latch, as it usually is,
when a party is on," Drake explained coldly. "And I was just entering
the room when I heard my wife make the remark about covering an honor
with an honor, and then her question of Penny as to whether she should
have played second hand low.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80