Chapter 15. Wallace Blake threw open the door of his study and stormed in like a man unaware of his surroundings.

He paced from one side of the room to the other and stopped briefly to stare at the telephone on the side table.

The police, he thought, I should, I should.

He sat down hard in a chair near the fireplace and took his head in his hands.

What could he possibly tell the

police? That he had reason to suspect the death of Martin Davies was no accident? The only support he had

for the notion was the fact that Davies had been quite chummy with a certain mysterious traveler

from the Orient ever since he and Ajay Shaw had met in Blake's own home. He had no proof of Shaw's

involvement, no motive for the crime beyond Davy's

wealth. But he had felt a sickness in his soul, growing since that day a message had come from

Joshua Cain, inviting him to make some easy money by vouching for the charming Mr. Shaw,

introducing him to his society friends at dinner. He had done favors for Cain before, of course.

He did not know how the master-fixer of crime had learned of the state of Blake's finances,

but there were certain little services Blake had been able to provide, and in so doing,

had found the money needed to keep up appearances, if only barely.

From time to time he had vouched for certain persons, certain business ventures,

the sort of credibility that could only be lent by an upstanding citizen who was known to possess

a large family fortune. He had helped Cain open doors in the past, but never before had the

door led directly to men and women that he knew. Never before had he made his friends or peers

vulnerable.

Wallace Blake had feared the worst of Aegee Shah, or rather what he thought the worst

might be, namely that Shah was some sort of confidence man.

...