Shayne said, “I’ll be glad to do what I can. Suppose we get together after the play.”
For several minutes he had been conscious of a flow of movement across the street and up a steep, unused road separating the Masonic Hall from an old livery stable. A large and excited group was gathering near the top of the blind street where it ended abruptly against another building.
He saw Nora Carson staring up at the gathering, her face drained of color, and he caught a snatch of conversation from a man hurrying past, “… some old miner, they say.”
Nora Carson drew her arm from Shayne’s hand and started across the street. Shayne followed and again took her arm to help her climb the rocky slope in her dainty, high-heeled slippers.
When they reached the circle of curiously silent people at the end of the narrow passage between the buildings, Shayne stopped and stood on tiptoe to see over the heads of the crowd.
He said quietly, “You’d better go back, Miss Carson.”
Her agonized eyes studied his face. “Is it—?”
Shayne nodded. “It looks as though there has been an accident, and I’m afraid it’s the man who peered through the window.”
The young actress said steadily, “Help me to get to him.”
Shayne spoke to those in front of him and they parted. A single dim light from the street below threw faint illumination on two men kneeling beside a still body. One of the men stood up as Shayne and Nora Carson reached the inner edge of the circle.