The managing editor of the Courier was driving, and he didn’t appear to notice Shayne’s car. Shayne sat on, undecided as to his next move, trying to straighten out some of the angles but not getting very far. Right now there were too damned many angles. After several minutes he got out and walked back to the Bronson home and pushed the door button again. The same rosy-cheeked maid opened the door. She said, “Oh, it’s you again, sir.” “I forgot something and came back. Mr. Bronson still here?” “Oh, no, sir, he’s left for the office.” Shayne scowled to show his irritation and disappointment. “He won’t be back until night, I suppose?” “He doesn’t usually come back, but—” “Mrs. Bronson will do just as well,” Shayne said and started forward. “Will you ask if she’ll see me for a moment?”
