“Harshaw always kept the piece hot,” said Biscayne reminiscently. “Why should he have a faulty radiator here? The hotel would certainly have repaired it.
“He did not dislike steam heat. He used it in the other rooms—”
Biscayne broke off to watch Cardona. The detective was tapping along the radiator, examining it with his customary thorough method.
He had come to the center. There, between two sections, he was making a close inspection.
“Looks like a crack,” he said. “But it’s too straight to be a crack. Look at this thin line, professor. Does it mean anything?”
Biscayne saw what Cardona had indicated. The detective had his powerful flashlight directly against the center of the radiator.
The glare revealed a thin mark no wider than a penciled line.
“Something’s phony,” growled Cardona, trying to budge the sections of the radiator. “It’s a break all right, but something’s holding it. Give me a minute. I’ll figure it.”
Biscayne looked at the handle of the radiator. He turned it one direction, then the other. He pulled upward, but the knob did not move.
Then he twisted and pulled upward at the same time. The knob clicked slightly, and came up a full three inches.