d the dressing-table and desk for the
gun or anything of importance, did you have any reason to suspect a
secret drawer in either of them?"

"No, Bonnie. They're just ordinary factory furniture. I tapped around
for a secret drawer, of course, but there wasn't even any place for
one," Strawn assured him with an indulgent grin.

"I want to see Penny Crain!" Dundee cried, making for the door.

"Then you'd better come along to the courthouse with me," Sanderson
called after him. "I sent her back to the office as soon as the inquest
was adjourned."

The two men passed through the now deserted morgue chapel and almost
bumped into a middle-aged man, obviously of the laboring class in spite
of his slicked-up, Sunday appearance.

"You're the district attorney, ain't you, sir?" he addressed Sanderson
in a nervous, halting undertone.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I come to the inquest to give some information, sir, but it was
adjourned so quick I didn't have time--"

"Who are you?" Sanderson interrupted impatiently.

"I'm Rawlins, sir. I worked for the poor lady, Mrs. Selim--gardening one
day a week--"

"Come to my office!" Sanderson commanded quickly, as a lingering
reporter approached on a run.... "No, no! I'm sorry, Harper," he said
hastily, cutting into the reporter's questions. "Nothing new! You may
say that the police have thrown out a dragnet--" and he grinned at the
trite phrase "--for the gunman who killed Mrs. Selim, and will offer a
reward for the recovery of the weapon--a Colt's .32 equipped with a
Maxim silencer.... Come along, George, and I'll explain just what Mrs.
Sanderson and I have in mind."

The district attorney and Dundee strode quickly away, and the man,
Rawlins, after a moment of indecision, trotted after them.

"I don't understand, sir, and my name ain't George. It's Elmer."

"You don't have to understand anything, except that you're not to answer
any question that any reporter asks you," Sanderson retorted.

When the trio entered the reception room of the district attorney's
suite in the courthouse Sanderson paused at Penny Crain's desk:

"Bring in your notebook, Penny. This man has some information he
considers important."

A minute later Sanderson had begun to question his voluntary but highly
nervous witness.

"Your name?"

"It's Elmer Rawlins, like I told you, sir," the man protested, and
flinched as Penny recorded his words in swift shorthand. "It was my wife
as made me come. She said