“That’s the reason,” Druse went on, “that if I shoot you through the heart right now, I’ll get a vote of thanks for avenging the lady you made a sucker of, and finally murdered because you thought she was going to squawk.”
All the fear came back into Crandall’s face suddenly. He started to speak.
Druse interrupted him, went on: “I’m going to let you have it when you reach for your gun, of course — that’ll take care of any technicalities about taking the law into my own hands — anything like that.”
Crandall’s face was white, drained. He said: “How come I’m elected? What the hell have you got against me?”
Druse shrugged. “You shouldn’t jockey ladies into trying to nick insurance companies...”
“It was her idea.”
“Then you should have been on the level about the rubies.”
Crandall said: “So help me God! I gave her back the stuff I took!” He said it very vehemently, very earnestly.
“How do you know? How do you know the man you had do the actual job didn’t make the switch?”
Crandall leaned forward. “Because I took them. She gave me her key and I went in the side way, while she was out, and took them myself. They were never out of my hands.” He took up a lighter from the desk and relighted the stump of cigar with shaking hands. “That’s the reason I didn’t take her threat seriously. I thought it was some kind of extortion gag she’d doped out to get some of her dough back. She got back the stones I took — and if they weren’t genuine they were switched before I took them, or after I gave them back.”