He had rushed to his half-open door, but whoever it was who had come down the stairs had moved too fast for him, and he didn’t catch a glimpse of the retreating person. He had at first assumed that it had been Ken leaving, but when he had heard Ken creep down the stairs later, and when he had gone to his door and had seen Ken, he realized that someone had been up in Fay’s apartment besides Fay and Ken. When he had learned from Donovan that Fay had been murdered, he realized the person who had come down the stairs so quickly might easily have been the killer, and he was furious with himself for missing the chance of seeing who it was.
However, he wasn’t going to lose by his mistake. This young fellow striding ahead of him must have also been in the apartment at the time of Fay’s death. He must be worried sick that the police would assume he had killed Fay. Anyone with a guilty conscience was a potential source of income to Sweeting, and he happily stretched his short, fat legs to keep the young fellow in sight.
This was obviously his lucky day, Sweeting thought. The business would have to be handled carefully, but he had no doubt that he would be able to persuade this guy to part with a handsome sum in return for a promise of silence.
He had come from the side entrance of the Eastern National Bank, Sweeting thought, as he scurried along the sidewalk, clutching on to Leo; that must mean he worked at the bank. He wouldn’t be a rich man, but he would have a good, steady income. Perhaps it would be better to ask for thirty dollars a month rather than put the bite on him for a large sum. But a guy in his position, Sweeting argued, was certain to have some savings. The best thing would be to ask for a lump sum; say a couple of hundred dollars, and then a regular payment of thirty dollars a month.
He followed Ken on to a bus, and, concealing himself behind a newspaper, he gave himself up to the excitement of the hunt.
Leo seemed to know what was taking place. He curled up on his master’s ample lap and remained motionless, panting a little, his goggle eyes alert and interested.
After a twenty-minute ride, Ken got off the bus, brushing past Sweeting without noticing him.
Sweeting followed him, watched him buy a newspaper at the corner and
pause to read the Stop Press while he struggled to hold two parcels under one arm.
Sweeting had already read the Stop Press announcement, and knew what it contained. He watched Ken’s white, scared face with interest.