“Yes, and said Sabin seemed very pleased about something. He told Waid he’d closed the deal and to start at once. He said there’d been a little delay because the telephone here was out of order. He’d had to drive down to a pay station, but he said he was driving right back to the cabin and would be at the cabin for two or three days, that in case Waid encountered any difficulties he was to telephone.”
“And Waid didn’t telephone?”
“No, because everything went through like clockwork, and Sabin had only told him to telephone in case something went wrong.”
Mason said thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see then. He was alive at ten o’clock on the evening of Monday, September fifth. Did anyone else see him or talk with him after that?”
“No,” the sheriff said. “That’s the last time we actually know he was alive. From there on, we have to figure evidence. The fishing season opened on Tuesday the sixth. Over there’s an alarm clock which had run down. It stopped at two forty-seven. The alarm was set at five-thirty.”
“The alarm run down too?” Mason asked.
“Uh-huh.”
The telephone bell shattered the silence. The sheriff said, “Excuse me,” and scooped up the receiver. He listened a moment, then said, “All right, hold the line,” and turned to Mason. “It’s for you,” he said.
Mason took the receiver and heard Paul Drake’s voice at the other end of the line. “Hello, Perry. I took a chance on calling you there. Are you where you can talk?”
“No,” Mason said.