"I didn't say that!" Beardsley paused in a strange hesitation; his eyes
had gone remote beneath the very thick glasses, and his words came slow
and isolated. "But he's part of the record. Yes, it should be quite a
record. In fact, I have a feeling--you know?--that this case is going to
stand as a _monument_ in the annals of crime...."
Mandleco stared at him, searched for the meaning there and then gave it
up. _Why had he ever committed himself to this situation anyway? Did
this little man really know as much as he pretended, or was he merely
fumbling around in the dregs of a forgotten past?_ To be sure, Beardsley
was a pathetic enough figure; but the man had once been great in his
field, and there was something about him even now....
There was the sudden way Beardsley had of losing his abstracted look,
the eyes beneath those ridiculous lenses coming to a sharp bright focus
with tiny livening flecks in the gray of the iris; and the way the
change lifted his features from mediocrity to the alertness of a
terrier. It was absurd, it was farcical ... and it was all very
disturbing.
"You told _me_," Mandleco said testily, "that the killer was someone
Carmack trusted enough to have in his home. Then you bludgeon Losch with
the idea it was a person Carmack had reason to fear! It would seem to
me, Beardsley--"
"No, no. I think my words to Losch were _assuming_ the killer was such a
person." Beardsley looked up brightly, and even through those lenses
Mandleco could see the sharp focus.
"Just the same, I fail to see what's to be gained by these outlandish
methods!"
Beardsley seemed genuinely surprised. "But I've gained a great deal
already! And don't forget, Mrs. Carmack and Pederson should be here
soon."
"_That's_ a prospect I look forward to," Mandleco tried to salvage a
modicum of humor and failed miserably. He extracted a cigar, clamped his
teeth upon it, frowned and glanced at his watch. He strode over and
peered out at the operations room.