Ann Tolman closed the door of Falter’s bedroom noiselessly behind her and faced Rennert. She raised both her hands and buried her fingers in her hair, pushing it slowly upward. The movement stretched the skin tight over her cheekbones and gave her eyes a wild terror-filled look.
“He’s suffering,” she said, “terribly. I don’t know any way to relieve him. You still want to talk to him?”
“Yes, if you don’t think it would harm him.” Rennert was watching her closely. After he and Arnhardt had half-carried, half-guided Falter to his room she had quietly and competently assumed the role of nurse, issuing orders for quiet and gently assisting in his undressing. If, Rennert thought, she were to crack up now there was no one to whom he could turn for clear-headed assistance.
“I told him,” she spoke in a strained voice. “He wants to see you. I’ll wait out here.”
Rennert went inside.
Falter lay with one hand thrown over his eyes. Ann had cupped a piece of paper over the electric bulb so that its light was directed against the ceiling, leaving the bed in shadow.
Rennert sat upon the edge of a chair.
“Mr. Falter?” He spoke softly.
Falter took away his hand and looked at him for a moment dazedly.
“Hello, Rennert.” He spoke hoarsely. “Glad you’re here. This is pretty bad.”
“Yes. Stomach mostly. And Rennert—”
“Yes?”
“That light bulb wasn’t yellow, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
A pause while a hand pulled clumsily at the front of his perspiration-dampened pajamas.
“Then I know how Stahl felt.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“I got sick a little before dinner. Came in and lay down. All of a sudden everything was yellow. Like a weak yellow light had been turned on. It got worse. When I went in to the dining room I could hardly see.” He raised himself on an elbow and stared at Rennert, the muscles of his face working. “Rennert, you know what this means?”
“Yes?”
“Poison, man, poison!” His voice rose. “First Stahl, then Miguel, then myself. If I’d only had sense enough to see it before! I’d have shot the bastard, whoever he is.”
“And who,” Rennert asked, “do you think is doing it?”
Falter lay back on the pillow, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“I don’t know,” his voice was choked. “I’m not sure, that is.”
“The possibilities are rather limited, you know.”
“Yes. Only two.”
“Two?”
“Arnhardt and Tolman. Arnhardt and I have never gotten along. He thought he could step in and have as much say-so about running this place as I. He’s in love with that Tolman girl, too. She has worked on his sympathies. Told him that we framed her husband—Solier and I—on that San Antonio deal.”
“I don’t believe I know about that.”
“Tolman was working for us then, collecting rents and notes. There was a shortage in the funds. We didn’t press any charges of embezzlement. Knew the fellow was hard up. Brought him down here so that he could draw our plans for us.”
“Has Tolman ever made any threats?”
“No, but I suppose he might be too smart for that.”
“But what advantage would it be to him to make attempts on yours and Stahl’s lives?”
“His way of getting even.”
Rennert thought a moment.
“But Miguel?” he asked. “Why should Tolman or Arnhardt or anyone else want to poison him?” Falter was silent for a long time.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “There’s no reason that I know of.”
“You have been bothered with stomach trouble for some time, I believe?”
“Yes, ever since I came down to this damned country.”
“Has it been getting any worse lately?”
“Since I ran out of those tablets, yes.”
“Tell me what you ate or drank this afternoon.”
“Nothing except that whisky.”
“While I was with you?”
“Yes.”
“But I drank out of the same bottle.”
“Yes.” It seemed to come reluctantly from Falter’s thick throat. “That’s so.”
“You didn’t drink any more after I left?”
“No.”
“And those tablets—you took no more of them?”
“Yes, one more. After I left you in the patio.”
“You and I were gone for perhaps fifteen minutes, when we went to the kitchen with Lee. Where was the box of tablets during that time?”
“On the desk out in the office.”
“It was in the same place when you came back as when you left?”
“I think so. I didn’t notice particularly. I took one more and put the box in the upper drawer of the desk.”
“Was the taste of the second one you took like that of the first?”
“I didn’t notice any difference. They’re bitter as hell. You think that someone may have come in while we were gone and poisoned them?”
“It looks as if that were the only answer.” Rennert got to his feet. “I’m going to talk to Solier now on the radio. I’ll have him send a doctor down. Is there anything I can do for you?”
With an effort Falter moved so that he lay on his side.
“I’d like some water—cool water.”
“I’ll have Mrs. Tolman bring it to you. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
“All right, Rennert. Thanks.”
Ann Tolman was standing by the window of the outer room, staring out into the patio. She turned as Rennert came out.
“Mr. Falter would like some water. Would you mind getting it for him?”
“Of course not. You’ll stay here in case he wants anything? It will only take a moment.”
“Yes.”
When she had gone Rennert went to the desk and opened the top drawer. The box of tablets which he had given to Falter that afternoon lay in one corner. He took it out and held it to the light. Upon the top of it was pasted the label of a San Antonio drug store bearing the typewritten name of a physician and a number. He took out an envelope, shook several of the white tablets into it and returned it, carefully folded, to his pocket. As he put the box back into place his eyes rested on the holster of tooled leather that filled most of the space. From it protruded the butt of a pistol. It was, he saw as he half-drew it out, a Colt automatic.
He was closing the drawer when Ann Tolman came back into the room carrying a jug of water and a glass.
“There’s a question I’d like to ask you, Mrs. Tolman.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about George Stahl’s death. Do you remember whether or not he kept talking about things being yellow up to the time of his death?”
“Oh, no,” she answered readily. “That was only at first, after they had brought him in out of the sun. He seemed to get his normal eyesight back after an hour or so.”
“Thank you,” Rennert said. “I’ll go now. Call me in case you need me.”
“Mr. Rennert,” she checked his movement of departure with a low controlled voice, “I want to thank you for having kept still about this afternoon. I feel that I owe you an explanation. When we have time to talk I’ll tell you—I’ll try to tell you, that is—about it.”
Before he could reply she had gone.