Tab gave way to the detective and waited whilst Carver looked.
“There’s no sign of a weapon—but by the smell there has been some shooting,” he said. “What is that on the table?”
Tab peered through the ventilator.
“It looks like a key to me,” he said.
They tried the door, but it resisted their combined weight.
“The door is much too thick and the lock too strong for us to force,” said Carver at last. “I’ll telephone headquarters, Tab. See what you can get out of your friend.”
“I don’t think he’ll tell me much for some time. Come along, Babe,” said Tab kindly, taking the other’s arm. “Let us get out of this beastly atmosphere.”
Unresisting, Rex Lander allowed himself to be led back to the dining-room, where he dropped into a chair.
Carver had finished his telephoning and had returned
