He reached down into his pocket and produced a small tinted oblong of paper. He held it, face out, between his thumb and forefinger, so that she could read it.
"This Steinert check 'll do the trick. Take a closer look at the signature. Do you get it?"
"What about it?" she asked, without a tremor.
He restored the check to his wallet and the wallet to his pocket. She would find it impossible to outdo him in the matter of impassivity.
"I may or I may not know who forged that check. I don't want to know. And when you tell me where Binhart is, I wont know."
"That check was n't forged," contended the quiet-eyed woman.
"Steinert will swear it was," declared the Second Deputy.
She sat without speaking, apparently in deep study. Her intent face showed no fear, no bewilderment, no actual emotion of any kind.
