“Why not?” she replied. “If it’s the same black cat I caught prowling around here last night, it came with that G-man who traced the phone call. He’s this girl’s husband. Didn’t you hear him asking about her?”
“Peter! He’s come!” Judy whispered.
“What’s that?” Falco questioned, leaning closer. “What do you know about that cat?”
“Where—is he?” croaked Judy.
“I don’t know, but I’d kill him if I could find him. It’s bad enough to be trapped by a girl, but a cat!” He spat out the word and made a violent gesture.
“And a black cat at that. I’ve always heard they were bad luck,” put in Mrs. Cubberling, “especially this one. He belongs to Judy Bolton, of course. Yes, I’ve guessed her name. Roger Banning told us about her, remember? Her family moved into the house where old Vine Thompson used to operate. Roger said this girl and her brother helped Chief Kelly round up most of the gang, and Roger said they’d get you, too. It was when you held the gun on him and made him bring us his friend with the prison record. I’d like to see you talk yourself out of this mess when that G-man finds this girl.”
“Let him!” growled Falco. “We didn’t hurt her. She hurt herself diving into the fountain. It was turned on full force. I don’t see how she ever got through it. That water has power. For my money it was all the protection we needed.”
“If Dick Hartwell is dead—” Edith Cubberling began.
“He’s dead all right. Real dead,” Falco interrupted, “but I don’t have to answer for that. You turned on the fountain, Edith. I’m not forgetting that.”
“Don’t think you’re going to blame everything on me!” she screamed. “And you’re not going to get me in any deeper! I’m going back there and get that doctor. But not until you clear out. I don’t trust you. ‘If anyone goes near that fountain, turn it on!’ you said, and so I turned it. But is that man back there real dead, as you say, or isn’t he? It makes a big difference. They were still working over him when we left.”