telling the truth-or at least the truth as he saw it. He had not stabbed Ricori. Yet to attribute the act, to a
doll was too fantastic. And there had been only the three men in the car. McCann had been reading my
thoughts with an uncanny precision.
"It might've been one of them mechanical dolls," he said. "Geared up to stick."
"McCann, go down and bring it up to me," I said sharply-he had voiced a rational explanation.
"It ain't there," he said, and grinned at me again mirthlessly. "It out!"
"Preposterous-" I began. The chauffeur broke in:
"It's true. Something out. When I open the door. I think it cat, dog, maybe. I say, 'What the hell-' Then I
see it. It run like hell. It stoop. It duck in shadow. I see it just as flash an' then no more. I say to
McCann-'What the hell!' McCann, he's feeling around bottom of car. He say-'It's the doll. It done for