If anybody else had gone in or out, she’d have said so.”

“Then there had to be somebody else already in the apartment when I got there.”

“How would he get out?”

“Through the kitchen and down the back stairway that leads to the garage in the basement. There’s an exit to the alley on the ground floor.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “But you didn’t see anybody else in the apartment:”

“No. But I was only in the living room.”

“You didn’t see a coat, wrap, hat, or a purse, or anything?”

“No. I wouldn’t have noticed, though, if there had been one. I was boiling, and all I saw was Stedman.”

“If there were somebody there, why would he suddenly decide to kill Stedman? Presumably, it would be a friend or acquaintance.”

“Or one of his girl friends. I don’t know. All I know is that he was all right when I went out of the room, and less than five minutes later he was dead.”

“Do you think anybody will ever believe it?”

“Of course not. Why do you think I ran?”

“It does have one thing in its favor,” she said. “It’s stupid enough to be true. Anybody could make up a better story.”

I shrugged and got up to prowl restlessly around the room. Light was fading now inside the house. I turned, and her eyes were on me. This time she didn’t look away. She shook her head musingly.

“I keep trying to decide whether you look more like a Roman gladiator,” she said, “or some raffish medieval monk who got caught in the wrong bedroom.”

“Well, my clothes will be dry in a little while.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s a fascinating combination—a cassock and a black eye.”

There was something provocative in her tone, and when I turned quickly to look at her I saw the same thing in her eyes. I walked over beside her. She moved over almost imperceptibly, and I sat down on the edge of the chaise.

“Can’t we have a fire?” she asked teasingly.

“No.”

“Think how cozy it would be,” She smiled. “An open fire and the sound of the rain.”

“And the police kicking in the doors.”

“Maybe I’d send them away.”

“Sure you would,” I said.

“You don’t think so?” She ran a finger gently along the bruise on my jaw. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” I said. I kissed her. Her lips parted and her arms tightened fiercely around my neck. Then she was whispering against my mouth. “It’s the way you look in that garment. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you.”

I kissed her again. She made a little whining sound in her throat, but then she twisted away from me and stood up. Her face was flushed and her breathing ragged as she eluded my hands and ran toward the next room. I caught her beside the bed.

“It’s so cold in here,” she whispered. “Did you close that window?”

I reached out across the bed to pull the drape aside to make sure, and while I was off balance she hit me with a shoulder and both arms. I spun around, landed on the corner of the bed, and slid to the floor.