s was
seen parked in Rivers's drive about the time Pierre was away from here."

Mrs. Jarrett moaned softly; her face, already haggard, became positively
ghastly. Karen gasped in fright.

"They only identified it as to model and make; they didn't get the
license number ... Where did Pierre go, while he was away from here?"

"He went out for cigarettes," Karen said. "When we came here from
Greshams', we made some coffee, and then sat and talked for a while, and
then we found out that we were both out of cigarettes and there weren't
any here. So Pierre said he'd go out and get some. He was gone about half
an hour; when he came back, he had a carton, and some hot pork
sandwiches. He'd gotten them at the same place as the cigarettes--Art
Igoe's lunch-stand."

"Could Igoe verify that?"

"It wouldn't help if he did. Igoe's place isn't a five-minute drive from
Rivers's, farther down the road."

"Has Pierre a lawyer?" Rand asked.

"No. Not yet. We were just talking about that."

"Dad would defend him," Dot suggested. "Of course, he's not a criminal
lawyer--"

"Carter Tipton, in New Belfast," Rand told them. "He's my lawyer; he's
gotten me out of more jams than you could shake a stick at. Where's the
telephone? I'll call him now."

"You think he'd defend Pierre?"

"Unless I'm badly mistaken, Pierre isn't going to need any trial
defense," Rand told them. "He will need somebody to look after his
interests, and we'll try to get him out on a writ as soon as possible."

He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to nine. It was hard to say
where Carter Tipton would be at the moment; his manservant would probably
know. Karen showed him the phone and he started to put through a
person-to-person call.

* * * * *

It was eleven o'clock before he backed his car into the Fleming garage,
and the rain had turned to a wet, sticky snow. All the Fleming cars were
in, but Rand left the garage doors open. He also left his hat and coat in
the car.

After locating and talking to Tipton and arranging for him to meet Dave
Ritter at the Rosemont Inn, he had gone to the State Police substation,
where he had talked at length with Mick McKenna. He had been compelled to
tell the State Police sergeant a number of things he had intended keeping
to himself. When he was through, McKenna went so far as to admit that he
had been a trifle hasty in arresting Pierre Jarrett. Rand suspected that
he was mentally kick