Despite the bearded man's amiable mood, Margo wasn't anxious to follow. She
waited while Talcott called for Homer who arrived from the side stairway and
slid a door shut to close and lock the rear room, when Talcott announced that
both visitors had gone. Noting Margo's glance toward the side stairway, Talcott
announced that the door below was still open and bowed a courteous good night.
Margo breathed better when she reached the side street. Meeting Benisette
had been an ordeal, to say nothing of Graff. Margo only hoped that neither was
in the taxicab that she saw parked near the corner, so when she reached it, she
paused long enough to look inside.
There, from the glow of the dim street lamp against the cab window, Margo
saw a face and started back, only to laugh when she realized it must be the
reflection of her own. Only the mirrored image didn't laugh, and that was when
Margo really gasped.
It was a girl's face in the window, but it wasn't Margo's. To her utter
amazement, the sort that approached horror, Margo was staring at features that
she had seen pictured only a short while before. Lovely features, but not to
Margo's distraught mind.
What Margo saw - or thought she saw - was the life-sized face of the
Siamese dancing girl who existed only as a statue that belonged to Simon
Benisette!
As Margo Lane recoiled, the saffron countenance disappeared. Tripping back
across the curb, Margo was caught by the strong arm of a cab driver, who had
seen her from a neighboring lunch room and was coming to claim her as a fare.
"Not feeling good, lady?" queried the cabby. "Here, get inside and I'll
take you home."
Was the far door closing as the cab driver opened the near one, or was that
just another strained thread in the fabric of Margo's imagination?
At least the cab was empty when Margo plumped into the seat. Then the
driver was at the wheel, speeding away from this area where curious
recollections built themselves into imaginary realities, if such things could
be.
Relaxing, Margo Lane decided she'd tell Lamont Cranston all about it when
he returned from Washington.
CHAPTER V
LAMONT CRANSTON smiled across the breakfast table.
Seldom did Cranston smile; almost never was he seen at a breakfast table.
Today was one of the rare exceptions, because he had hopped in from Washington
on an early plane instead of rising at the crack of noon.
"So Benisette is calling for the chest as soon as Talcott opens shop,"
remarked Cranston. "Was that the understanding, Margo?"
Margo nodded, rather sleepily. Cranston had wakened her with a phone call
from LaGuardia Airport and she'd just about had time to reach the restaurant
where he said he would meet her. Having reported what occurred at the Talcott
Antique Galleries on the previous evening, Margo was lapsing back to the dream
stage.
"Wake up!" spoke Cranston. "You're half asleep, Margo."
It was odd, the way Margo's thoughts unclouded. One moment she was viewing
