Read The Rubber Band/The Red Box 2-In-1 for Free Online

and it was dimmer than it had been when I entered, for no more lights were turned on and it was getting dark outdoors. There were doors along one side, and at the further end the double doors, closed, ofthe directors’ room. I heard a cough, and turned, and saw Miss Vawter, the executive reception clerk, sitting in the corner under a light with a magazine.
    She said in a vinegar voice, “I’m remaining after hours because Mr. Perry said you might want to speak to me.”
    She was a pain all around. I said, “Please continue remaining. Which is Muir’s room?”
    She pointed to one of the doors, and I headed for it. I was reaching out for the knob when she screeched at me, “You can’t go in there like that! Mr. Muir is out.”
    I called to her, “Do tell. If you want to interrupt Mr. Perry in his conference, go to the directors’ room and give the alarm. I’m investigating.”
    I went on in, shut the door, found the wall switch and turned on the lights. As I did so, a door in another wall opened, and Miss Barish appeared. She stood and looked without saying anything.
    I observed, “I thought I told you to go home.”
    “I can’t.” Her color wasn’t working either way. “When Mr. Muir is here I’m not supposed to go until he dismisses me. He is in conference.”
    “I see. That your room? May I come in?”
    She stepped back and I entered. It was a small neat room with one window and the usual stenographic and filing equipment. I let the eyes rove, and then asked her, “Would you mind leaving me here for a minute with the door shut, while you go to Muir’s desk and open and close a couple of the drawers? I’d like to see how much din it makes.”
    She said, “I was typing.”
    “So you were. All right, forget it. Come and show me which drawer the money was in.”
    She moved ahead of me, led the way to Muir’s desk, and pulled open one of the drawers, the second one from the top on the right. There was nothing in it but a stack of envelopes. I reached out and closed it, then opened and closed it again, grinning as I remembered Perry’s suggestion about fingerprints. Then I left the desk and strolled around a little. It was a vice-president’s office, smaller and modester than Perry’s but still by no means a pigpen. I noticed one detail, or rather three, a little out of the ordinary. There was no portrait of Abraham Lincoln nor replica of the Declaration of Independence on the walls, but there were three different good-sized photographs of three different good-looking women, hanging framed. I turned to Miss Barish, who was still standing by the desk:
    “Who are all the handsome ladies?”
    “They are Mr. Muir’s wives.”
    “No! Honest to God? Mostly dead?”
    “I don’t know. None of them is with him now.”
    “Too bad. It looks like he’s sentimental.”
    She shook her head. “Mr. Muir is a sensual man.”
    She was having another frank spell. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to six, giving me another five minutes, so I thought I might as well use them on her. I opened up, friendly, but although she seemed to be willing to risk a little more chat with me, I didn’t really get any facts. All I learned was what I already knew, that she had no reason to suppose that Clara Fox had lifted the jack, and that if there was a frame-up she wasn’t in on it. When the five minutes was up I turned to go, and at that moment the door opened and Muir came in.
    Seeing us, he stopped, then came on again, to his desk. “You may go, Miss Barish. If you want to talk with me, Goodwin, sit down.”
    Miss Barish disappeared into her room. I said, “I won’t keep you now, Mr. Muir. I suppose you’ll be here in the morning?”
    “Where else would I be?”
    That kind of childishness never riles me. I grinned at the old goat, said, “Okay,” and left him.
    Outside in the corridor, down a few paces towards the directors’ room, a group of four or five men stood talking. I saw Perry was among them, and