“Did you witness the murder?”
“Yes, I spied on them, helpless to halt the terrible crime. They fixed it up to look like suicide by hanging, but that was a mere ruse to foil you easily fooled Americans. I saw them spirit her body away in the dead of night in a black sedan, and you, sir, must bear these tragic tidings to the Duke at once.”
“I’ll do my best,” Shayne promised, “but I’m afraid they’ll only laugh at my story.” He relaxed his jaw, suddenly conscious that his teeth were grinding together.
A door opened down the hall.
“There they come,” the little man whispered stridently. “The Gestapo. But I’ll outwit them yet.” He jumped up and scurried to the front door.
An orderly laughed indulgently as he approached Shayne. “Has Sherlock been plotting with you against the Gestapo?”
Shayne grinned and nodded. “He’s lost without Watson.”
“What was it this time? Last week he was working on a plan to save the President from assassination.”
“He appears to have succeeded.”
The orderly passed on, and the nurse came to the side door and beckoned Shayne. “Doctor Patterson will see you now.”