ve gadgets littering
the glass top.

Troy began to wear another path in the moss-colored broadloom carpeting.
He was big and broad and getting puffy around the middle, like a
one-time halfback going to seed. His round, heavy-featured face was even
more florid than usual, and his heavy growth of reddish-blond hair
needed a comb.

Martin Kirk pushed himself deeper into the depths of a brown leather
chair and watched the D. A. through brooding eyes. He wanted a cigar but
it was too early in the morning for that kind of indulgence. You needed
a good breakfast and a couple cups of coffee before--

"I don't explain it," Troy said in quieter tones. He was standing by the
window now, staring down into the boulevard passing that side of the
Criminal Courts Building. "It's one of those things that make me think
my sainted mother wasn't so wrong when she used to tell about elves and
gnomes and leprechauns and fairies and--"

Kirk made a sound deep in his throat, "Naia North was a hell of a long
way from being a leprechaun. Somebody wanted her out of here for some
reason--and they got her out. I want to know who took her out, why she
was taken, and where she is now. And I'm going to find out the answers
to all three if I have to turn this town on its ear."

"Go ahead," Troy said. "Hop right to it and I wish you luck. Only leave
me and my people out of it."

"Seems to me you're mighty damned anxious _to_ be left out."

Arthur Kahler Troy turned on his heel and strode toward the Lieutenant
until he was towering over him. "Just what," he said between his teeth,
"do you mean by _that_ crack?"

"Figure it out for yourself," Kirk snapped. "And I'm sure you can."

Troy reared back as though the police officer had pulled a gun on him.
"Why--why you--I'll have you busted for making a dirty insinu--"

"You couldn't bust a daisy chain at the police department," Kirk
growled. "The Commissioner hates your guts and you know that as well as
I do. Now let's cut out all this hokey-pokey and pick up a few loose
ends, The first thing: what about Paul Cordell?"

All the wide-eyed fury seemed to go out of Troy's face like water down
the bathtub drain. He turned away and walked slowly back to his desk
chair and sat down.

He said, "What about Cordell," in a soft voice.

"The morning paper," Kirk said, "reports he was taken up to Hillcrest
last night. The warden out there's probably got him in Death Row
already."

"Uh-hunh."

"Well, l