"It's not impossible," she said a little wearily, "because the whole thing's nothing more than a plant, a frame-up. And you may as well know it. It can't go on. The whole thing was a plan to trap you."
"A plan to trap me?"
"Yes, a carefully worked-out plan to gather you in. And now, you see, the machinery is slipping a cog where it wasn't expected to!"
I stood there incredulous, dazed, trying to digest the shock.
"You mean that the man I met and talked to last night is actually an accomplice of yours?"
"Yes," she answered, "if you care to put it that way."
"But I can't believe it. I won't believe it until you bring him here and prove it."
She sank into her chair, with a half-listless motion for me to be seated.
"Do you know why he's called Coke Whelan?" she demanded.
I did not.