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even though he kept on using my body. Because my mother never knew or suspected. That’s why I hate him so. Because he turned me into the sort of creature who is proud of being used by a monster like that. Look at me!”
    She drew herself erect, smoothing back her hair scornfully. “Tonight you thought I was a sweet young thing. I saw it in your eyes. But I’m debauched. Hideous. A monstrosity. Worse than any syphilitic whore who walks the streets of Miami. Because they let men use their bodies because they want to. To earn money. That’s clean compared to me.
    “So now I have shocked you.” She turned away coldly. “I knew, of course, that it couldn’t be. In my wildest imaginings I knew deep down inside of me that I’d never find a man who could sympathize and understand. Why don’t you go, Mike Wayne? I know you can’t stand to even look at me any more.”
    She stood rigidly at the window with her back to him. Slim and defiant and so woefully young.
    Shayne said, “I’ll stick around awhile, Jane Smith. Why don’t you go back and sit down and tell me more about the situation?”
    She turned and looked at him wonderingly. “You mean it, don’t you? You’re not utterly revolted by the sight of me?”
    “I’m not revolted at all,” Shayne assured her flatly. “What I do wonder right now is what sort of hold your stepfather still has on you that makes his murder seem the only way out.”
    The word seem to jar her queerly. “Murder?” she repeated. “I never once thought of that word. Call it an execution. Riddance. An extermination. Is it murder when you crush a loathsome cockroach underfoot? Don’t they hang men who rape young girls? You don’t call that murder, do you?”
    Shayne said, “It’s a question of semantics. You feel so trapped that the only way out is to have Saul Henderson killed. Why? What sort of hold has he over you? You said your mother is dead.”
    “Yes. She died two months ago.” Jane Smith returned composedly to the sofa. “Adoring my stepfather and believing him to be the finest man on earth. She left a will dividing her estate evenly between us, naming him as my legal guardian and placing my share of the money in trust to be administered by him as he sees fit until I’m twenty-one. Two years from now. Two years of being under his thumb… at his beck and call. Two more years during which I can’t call my soul my own. Living in the same house with him. Lying in my bed at night trembling with fear that he will walk in through the door and force himself upon me. Dying a thousand deaths each night he doesn’t come, and consumed with hatred and shame when he does.” Her voice died away listlessly.
    Shayne said harshly, “Do you mean that you’re going on with the affair even after your mother’s death?”
    “What else can I do? I have no money except what he doles out to me. Nothing. I’m utterly dependent on him for what I eat.”
    “Defy him,” said Shayne savagely. “My God, this is the Twentieth Century. Slavery has gone out of style.”
    She said, “You don’t know Saul Henderson.”
    “You must have some money of your own. Walk away from him and use it. How much is your share of the estate worth?” he demanded abruptly.
    “About a quarter of a million.”
    “Which will come to you with no strings attached in two years. Go out and borrow on it if you need cash to break away from him. Hell, the town is full of money-lenders who’ll advance you whatever you need. They’ll charge exorbitant interest, of course, but what do you care? You can afford to pay twenty percent for a couple of years.”
    “You don’t quite understand, Mike Wayne… or whatever your name is.” Jane crossed her arms across her breasts and squeezed them tightly. “There was an added provision in mother’s will. I told you she looked on Saul as a sort of God. I get my share only if I conduct myself like a devoted daughter and live in his house under his discipline until I’m of