Free Man on a Rope by George Harmon Coxe Page A

to…. All right, Inspector,” he said to Cantrell, who immediately stepped into the bathroom and got to work.
    Barry found a cigarette and offered one to Kerby, who refused but kept his glance evasive as it made a slow circuit of the room.
    â€œJust routine?” Barry said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIs this just routine or did someone tip you off about me?”
    â€œOh,” said Kerby as Barry’s meaning became clear. He allowed himself a small smile. “If you mean, are we acting on information received, we are not.”
    Barry did not believe it. He could not believe it in the light of his discovery. It annoyed him that he could not say so, and the more he thought about it the more his casual manner evaporated.
    â€œThen why pick on me?” he demanded.
    â€œI didn’t know that we were.” Kerby watched Cantrell come out of the bathroom and poke about the bed and its canopy of mosquito netting. “We are still looking for diamonds, Mr. Dawson. It was my thought that since those who were at Lambert’s house were led to believe that they would be unmolested until morning, the one who had the diamonds might take his time in hiding them properly. Tonight seemed like a good time to have a look. Yours is only one of several warrants that were issued, though it happens to be the last.”
    â€œThen you didn’t find them?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Cantrell was at the wardrobe now and Kerby saw the flight bag and the large suitcase standing at the bottom.
    â€œWould those be locked?”
    â€œThe suitcase is,” Barry said and offered his keys.
    â€œI’d rather you did it, if you don’t mind,” Kerby said. “We prefer that such things be done voluntarily.”
    Barry unlocked the case and stood back, paying no particular attention to Cantrell’s neat but thorough search since he knew what was there. When he had relocked the case he sat down on the arm of the chair and watched the man go through the desk. By this time Kerby was inspecting the magazines and papers on the window seat, and as his glance came up he considered first one of the makeshift flower pots and then the other.
    Barry was never sure whether Kerby had seen some bit of dirt he himself had overlooked or whether he was simply an example of a well-trained and resourceful colonial officer. Whatever the reason, he slipped the swagger stick from under his arm and began to probe about the buried roots. He spent a minute or so on each can and then, wiping the stick clean with a handkerchief, he slipped it back under his arm.
    â€œWell, that seems to be it,” he said pleasantly. “Thanks very much. I don’t think we’ll have to bother you again tonight.”
    Barry did not say he hoped not when he opened the door. He did not say anything. He turned the key and got out of his clothes. When he had finished in the bathroom he snapped off the light and climbed naked under the netting.
    It did not take him long to fall asleep, but before he dropped off he reluctantly accepted the simple fact that his own problem had become definitely more complicated. He still wanted to get the New York flight, but heretofore his interest had been more passive than otherwise. Now something more was needed. Someone was trying to tag him for murder and it was up to him to find out who while there was still time.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T HE W INDSOR H OTEL had a high percentage of transient trade, and when Barry Dawson had his breakfast the following morning he noticed several new faces in the dining-room. These had, somehow, the look of prosperous Americans or Canadians, and as others entered and waved to those who were seated it was not difficult to guess why they were here and where they had come from.
    For Georgetown was the terminus for several passenger-carrying freighters from the States and Canada, and those taking the round trip were dumped ashore at their own expense for four or five days while