The Yellow Warning

Connies suggestion of taking photographs of fur coats

modeled in front of their living and breathing counterparts at
the Philadelphia Zoo sounded, to the executives of Reid and
Renshaw, like a very good idea. But who could have
foreseen an escaped gorilla . . . and the theft of an expensive
mink coat?
Connie certainly didnt . . . but since the coat at the time
of its loss was in her care she feels responsible, and is
determined either to find the coat or make good the loss. But
when innocent Henry Colt, last seen holding the coat, is
jailed as a suspect, Connie wastes no time in setting a trap
for the real thief a trap that backfires, placing her in mortal
danger! How Connies deductions and expert sleuthing
solve the mystery of the missing mink is sure to keep all of
her readers gasping.

The CONNIE BLAIR Mystery Stories

The Clue in Blue
The Riddle in Red
Puzzle in Purple
The Secret of Black Cat Gulch
The Green Island Mystery
The Ghost Wore White
The Yellow Warning
The Gray Menace
The Brown Satchel Mystery
Peril in Pink
The Silver Secret
The Mystery of the Ruby Queens

A CONNIE BLAIR MYSTERY

The Yellow
Warning
By
BETSY ALLEN

Grosset & Dunlap

PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

 1951 BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.

Fabian Furs!
The Unlucky Number
Outside the Gorilla Cage
The Missing Mink
Is Connie Responsible?
Where Is Henry Colt?
The Investigation
Return to the Zoo
Search for a Clue
Night Shift
Cold Comfort
The Chase
Still at Large
One for the Money

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16
30
48
60
72
85
96
108
121
134
145
157
168

CHAPTER

Fabian Furs!

Connie Blair stood in front of the gleaming triple

mirror and gently, almost tenderly, stroked the soft
fur of the muskrat coat. Its beautiful, she
breathed.
Its really quite lovely on you, the salesclerk
agreed. Its dyed the new starlight shade. Across
the room you can scarcely tell it from mink.
Connie turned, letting the back of the coat swing
out luxuriously. Her blond hair was cut just short of
the collar, and looked especially bright against the
fur. Her skin was creamy, her eyes were bright, and
her legs were as slim and perfect as the model
parading before a customer across the softly lighted
salon.
Miss Marie, the salesclerk, leaned closer. Do
you recognize the lady over there?
Connie glanced at the reflection in the mirror. It
1

wasntit couldnt beshe named a famous actress

opening in a new play in Philadelphia, speaking the
name a little breathlessly because it seemed strange
and exciting to be seeing a celebrity at such short
range.
The clerk nodded. Shes considering the mink I
was talking about. Its the prize of the whole Fabian
collection, and, believe me, it costs the earth.
Connie smiled. Whats that?
Fifteen thousand dollars. Miss Marie breathed
the sum respectfully.
Connie pursed her lips in a silent whistle, not of
envy but of genuine interest. Once again she thanked
her lucky stars that she was in the advertising
business. Every week, every day even, her job with
Reid and Renshaw brought her into contact with
new and fascinating facts.
Mr. Gerald Fabian, correctly and conservatively
attired in a dark-blue pin-striped suit, stepped
elegantly across the amethyst-colored carpet to
speak to the important customer. The model turned
and pirouetted, then slipped out of the unlined
garment to allow Mr. Fabian to place it on the
shoulders of the actress, who stood and considered
the effect critically in the glass.
She was not, Connie thought shrewdly, as
beautiful as the model, but she graced the coat
better. In an instant, with a shrug of her shoulder, an
2

adjustment of the collar, she made it her own. Mr.

Fabian stood looking on in admiration, the model
faded into the background, and for a moment the
luxurious shop was turned into a stage, across which
the actress strode with a lithe, purely theatrical flair.
Then she slipped out of the coat with a nod of
approval. Ill think about it overnight and let you
know, Connie heard her say as she gathered up her
sable stole and draped it over the arm of her simple
black suit. I could have it within a week? Were
moving on to New York, you know.
Ill have it lined at once, if you will trust me to
choose the proper thing? Mr. Fabian apparently
considered the coat as good as sold. He escorted the
actress to the door, shaded by a striped marquee, and
turned back cheerfully, lookingConnie thought
not unlike a self-satisfied cat who has swallowed a
tasty canary.
Now, then, Miss Blair, I believe? Of Reid and
Renshaw?
Connie greeted Mr. Fabian respectfully. Our
new art director, Mr. Windham Jones, asked me to
stop in and look at the collection of coats you are
planning to advertise.
Ah, yes. I wish we could do something really
spectacular, Mr. Fabian said thoughtfully. Not just
the usual shots in front of the Hotel Barclay or the
Warwick. Something different, with a little more
3

verve.
Connie nodded, accustomed to the fact that every
client of Reid and Renshaw wanted something
different. But she had been with the agency long
enough, now, to know that there werent very many
really new advertising ideas.
Youve seen the coats I want to have
photographed? Mr. Fabian was continuing.
Yes. Miss Marie just showed them to me.
Mr. Fabian touched the let-out muskrat, which
had been returned to its hanger. This was not
among them?
Oh, no. Connie blushed, a trifle embarrassed. I
was just trying that onfor fun.
There was something so ingenuous about the
manner in which she made the confession that Mr.
Fabians aquiline face softened in a smile. He
slipped the coat from the hanger again, and the
lining, of yellow changeable taffeta, rustled
pleasantly. Is it becoming? Let me see.
But Connie drew back, rather alarmed. II
wasnt considering buying it, she said quickly. I
couldnt afford a fur coatat least not one like
this.
She was thinking of her new raise, received as
she assumed many of the stylists duties previously
performed by Georgia Cameron, who had married
and moved to Bermuda, from where she wrote long
4

and enthusiastic letters about her domestic life. In

the back of her mind Connie had always cherished
the thought that sometime shed like to own a fur
coat like Georgias or a jacket such as her Aunt Bet
wore, but it would be purely a luxury, and she could
manage to wait.
Mr. Fabian was saying mildly, This coat
happens to be a sample. Do slip it onjust as a
favor.
So once more Connie put her arms into the
sleeves and drew the rolled collar about her throat. It
was so lovely and soft!
Gerald Fabian regarded the effect with approval.
You do credit to the Fabian label, Miss Blair.
Then he glanced at the ticket inside the coat sleeve,
and made an astonishing offer. If youd like it, you
may have this coat at cost.
The figure he named was so ridiculously low that
Connie gasped in surprise. With some revision in
her budgeting, she might even manage . . . But
why, she asked frankly, are you doing this for
me?
Because you are with Reid and Renshaw,
replied Mr. Fabian, equally frank, and because I
like to see an attractive girl wearing a becoming
coat. Think it over, he persuaded her. You dont
have to make up your mind right now.
Connie, however, had already arrived at a
5

decision. Id love to have it, she said quickly, if

you really mean it. And Ill try my best to think up a
really good angle for the photographs of your new
collection, Mr. Fabian. Along with Mr. Jones, of
course. Its the only way I can say thank you She
broke off, a trifle at a loss, but her brown eyes
expressed the sincere appreciation she felt.
Mr. Fabian patted her shoulder with a fatherly
gesture. Youve said thank you, and very prettily,
my dear. He chatted for a few moments more about
the advertising campaign, then walked away to
attend to other business while Connie gave Miss
Marie her address and arranged to have the coat
sent.
You really got a bargain, Miss Blair, the
salesgirl whispered when they were alone. Thats a
very special lining, among other things. As Mr.
Fabian said, its a sample. Youll seldom see such a
lovely taffeta lining in a muskrat coat.
Connie was fully aware of her good fortune. She
came out into Walnut Street and turned toward the
office, walking against the brisk October wind with
the feeling that she was treading on air. She could
scarcely wait to show the coat to her Aunt Bet, with
whom she shared an apartment. As a department
store stylist, Elizabeth Easton would be as excited
over Connies luck as she was herself. A coat with a
Fabian label was really something to own!
6

Meanwhile, however, she had promised Gerald

Fabian to come up with a really good idea, and
somehow Connie felt no confidence that she could
depend on the help of Windham Jones in unearthing
one. The new art director was a rather pallid man,
with a cockscomb of graying hair and a frown of
perpetual worriment between his eyes. Connie
wished with all her heart that the account executive
on Fabian Furs had not been called out of town just
at this crucial moment, leaving the responsibility
entirely in Mr. Joness hands. He was probably able
enough in a routine sort of way, but he was new and
he was also a little nervous. Or perhaps she was
maligning him unduly. Maybe he was just awfully
anxious to make good.
A pretty young woman in a tweed suit and
squirrel jacket paused, just ahead of Connie, to look
at a window display of clothes for tots. Connie
narrowed her eyes, thinking that they might
photograph coats against shopwindow backgrounds,
but she abandoned the idea as too confusing; the
detail would detract from the furs.
In the next store there was a collection of
wonderful nursery wallpapers. Children at a circus,
children at a zoo. She seemed to be pursued by
fashions for small fry, just when she was involved
with furs! Then she stopped abruptly, smiling at a
fantastic leopard behind the bars of his miniature
7

cage. There was a simple background for youjust

the animal and vertical lines!
Immediately Connies creative mind translated
the thought into an idea. Why not do a zoo series? It
had been done before, but not recently, not in
Philadelphia. That beautiful leopard jacket in front
of a stalking real-live animal, otter against otter,
raccoon against raccoon . . .
She burst into the office enthusiastically. Mr.
Jones, I think I have a gimmick! Ive just been
looking at the Fabian furs and I think we could do a
series of zoo shots. She elaborated on the notion.
Its not new, but at least it would be different from
the usual mink-in-a-theater-lobby, raccoon-at-ahorse-or-dog-show deal.
Mr. Jones sat back in his chair and pressed his
thumbs together, looking at her thoughtfully.
Twenty years Connies senior, he had lost the first
fine flush of zeal. A job was a job to him, no more,
no less. It was no longer the exciting and stimulating
game it seemed to the girl across the desk.
At least this was the manner in which his reaction
impressed Connie. She waited impatiently while he
probed the pros and cons of the suggestion. It
might appeal to Mr. Fabian as a trifleinelegant,
perhaps.
The very contrast would make the furs seem
more luxurious, Connie insisted.
8

Perhaps, perhaps.
She felt a trifle deflated. The way Mr. Jones kept
repeating the word perhaps was absurdly
irritating. Connie was definite in all her reactions
and she liked other people to be definite too. Yes
and no were words she understood, but perhaps
and maybe were such wishy-washy adverbs,
getting nowhere at all.
We havent much time, she reminded the art
director. Mr. Fabian wants to get started as soon as
possible. The first of the ads is scheduled for
Yes, I know, Mr. Jones interrupted. You leave
it to me. Ill think it over. That will be all, Miss
Blair.
As she walked to the door Connie wondered if
her eyes had expressed astonishment at such a curt
dismissal. Reid and Renshaw had always been such
an informal place to work. Even Mr. George
Renshaw wouldnt speak to her quite so briskly. She
felt decidedly chagrined. But by the time she
reached the apartment that evening the excitement of
being the owner of a new fur coat had dissipated her
resentment. She could scarcely wait to tell Aunt Bet!
Elizabeth Easton, the tip of her short nose pink
with cold, came into the lamplit living room with
her arms full of packages and her eyes full of
sparkle. What a dinner were going to have! she
announced. Crabmeat au gratin and avocado salad
9

and French fried potatoes.

Mm, and am I ever hungry! Connie took the
grocery bags and started for the diminutive kitchen.
Housekeeping with Aunt Bet was always an
adventure, never a chore. She couldnt think of a girl
her own ageexcept, of course, her twin sister,
Kitwho was quite as much fun, nor an apartment
that was as gay and hospitable.
Above the crackle of brown paper she called,
Guess what?
Couldnt possibly, Aunt Bet shouted from the
bedroom. I know you too well even to try.
Im getting along in the world. Just bought a fur
coat.
What! Aunt Bets shriek was full of surprise
and interest. She appeared in the kitchen doorway
with her hat still in her hand. I knew you were
impulsive but this is really something! Tell me
more.
Connie laughed. With a Fabian label, no less.
Aha, light dawns. You have their account.
Youre too smart, Aunt Bet. Mr. Fabian made
me a perfectly wonderful offer on a let-out muskrat
and I couldnt resist it. But I still cant quite believe
its mine. Connie told her aunt all the
circumstances and was delighted when her aunt
heartily approved the purchase.
A good coat is an investment, she said. Youll
10

enjoy it thoroughlyand especially since its such a

windfall. Wont you feel smart!
And warm, added Connie practically. Its soft
and cozy as can be. I hope somebody asks me to a
football game next week end and buys me a big
yellow chrysanthemum to match the lining. Oh, I
forgot to tell you, the lining . . .
Companionable as a couple of schoolgirls, the
pair chatted across the dinner table, which was set in
a bay window from which they could look out over
the city. The lights of tall office buildings winked
like stars, bringing Connie the same sort of thrill
some people get from great open spaces or from
mountains. Philadelphia, day or night, still spelled
excitement and adventure to her.
This evening she was especially contented. The
winter promised to be busy, and her new
responsibilities at the agency were very much to her
liking. She rather missed Ken Cooper, the young
layout man who had been one of her firmest friends
at Reid and Renshaw, but times were bound to
change. Ken had taken a job with another agency
right after Georgia Cameron had left for Bermuda.
Too bad, because he might have stepped into the art
directors shoes. . . .
Thinking of the art director led Connie to tell her
aunt the idea she had proposed for the Fabian
photographs.
11

Not bad, her aunt agreed. Remember Joe

Ryan? Hes a keeper at the zoo now.
Joe Ryan? Connie repeated the name, trying to
place it in her memory.
The rather stout fellow with the nice grin who
worked with the crew of painters
Oh, yes!redecorating the apartment. He
thought you were wonderful. How could I forget?
Elizabeth Easton chuckled. I almost had, she
admitted, but I met him on the street last Saturday
and he told me all about his new job. Likes it much
better than painting.
I think I would too, Connie said. It would be
fun to work with animals and birds and things.
Aunt Bet wrinkled her nose. You can have it. A
day at the zoo is enough for me.
Maybe Mr. Jones feels the way you do, Connie
mused. Perhaps thats why he wasnt very
enthusiastic about the idea.
Or maybe he just got up on the wrong side of the
bed this morning. Her aunt yawned lazily. People
do.
Connie stirred her coffee and chuckled to herself.
Aunt Bet, as usual, had made a shrewd guess. She
remembered now that Mrs. Jones, a short, bedecked
matron with tinted hair, had come into the office at
noon to see her husband, and had left rather
abruptly, after a conversation behind closed doors.
12

Domestic troubles could be harrying the new art

director. By tomorrow he might be in a better frame
of mind.
Consequently, Connie approached the office
hopefully the next morning. She was determined to
be tactful but persuasive. Unless Mr. Jones came up
with a better idea for Fabian, she felt they should at
least make the proposal. Time was getting so very
short!
The mornings mail and accumulated detail
busied her for an hour; then Connie walked down
the corridor to the art directors office. On her way
she met Mr. Renshaw, the handsomer of the two
partners, and he smiled down at her with the easy
companionability that made the switchboard
operator tag him smooth.
Good luck on the Fabian account, he said in his
deep, deliberate voice. I like Windhams idea very
much.
Windhams idea? As he turned into the doorway
of his own office, Connie looked after him in mild
surprise. Well, maybe Mr. Jones had come through
with a stunner. Already, in her own mind, she was
prepared to abandon the zoo proposition. In the
advertising game it was important to keep a flexible
point of view.
Then the new art directors brisk, rather highpitched voice drifted distinctly into the corridor.
13

Mr. Fabian? Windham Jones speaking. We have a

proposal to make concerning the photographs for
your new collection. Ive been thinking it might be
rather striking to shoot the pictures out at the
Philadelphia Zoo.
While Connie stopped in astonishment, just a step
away from the office door, Mr. Jones paused, then
chuckled at something Mr. Fabian apparently said
on the other end of the wire. A moment later he
went on, speaking rapidly and with complete
authority. I have in mind a sequence of indoor and
outdoor shots, which I shall outline to you in detail
in a letter. But for the moment, picture a beautiful
girl in a leopard jacket photographed against the
perpendicular bars of the snow leopards cage in the
new Carnivora House, and a model in Alaska seal
feeding the sea lions. Does it appeal to you?
There was another silence. Then Mr. Jones said,
Fine, fine. Well schedule the shots for tomorrow
morning, then. No use delaying. Ill have Miss Blair
make the arrangements with the zoo at once. Righto!
Good-bye.
As the receiver clicked into its cradle, Connie
moved into the doorway. She hoped she didnt look
as incensed as she felt. Swiping her idea and
presenting it as his own. Well, of all the nerve!
Oh, hello, Miss Blair, Mr. Jones said, without
any apparent concern that he might have been
14

overheard. Mr. Fabian is willing to go along with

the zoo idea. Map out a detailed list of shots, will
you, and phone the publicity director and tell him
wed like to come out tomorrow morning.
Back at her own desk a few minutes later Connie
did as she was told, although her eyes still
smoldered with indignation. If the client had been
anyone other than Gerald Fabian she wouldnt have
minded being left out of the picture, but she had
been so anxious to do something special in return for
the favor the furrier had done her. . . .

15

CHAPTER

The Unlucky Number

Thirteen. Unlucky number. Miss Marie, looking

haggard in the early-morning light streaming
through Fabians plate-glass show windows, shook
her head superstitiously.
Pad in hand, Connie had just finished checking
the furs hung on the portable rack against Mr.
Fabians list.
Its always been a lucky number for me,
Connie reassured her. On our thirteenth birthday
my twin sister and I had our first real dates, and day
before yesterdaythe thirteenthMr. Fabian made
me the happy owner of a new fur coat. She was
feeling high-spirited and optimistic, in spite of the
fact that she had been up with the birds and had
breakfasted by seven-thirty in order to arrive at the
fur shop early.
Everything was arranged. Connie and the stock
16

boy from Fabians were to ride, together with the

coats, in the truck. Mr. Jones was to pick up the four
models and follow in another car, while the
photographer, Gregory Rome, would join them at
the north entrance to the zoo.
The morning was clear and brisk. The wind of the
past few days had died, to Connies relief, because a
stiff breeze could do unfortunate things to the hairdos some models affected. It would be a good idea
to get the outside photographs finished first, just in
case the weather should change before noon.
She must mention this to Mr. Jones, Connie noted
on her pad. So many things to think aboutthere
was no time for resentment this morning. Anyway,
she had practically forgiven the art director his
behavior. He was new in his job, anxious to make a
good impression. There were a dozen and one
excuses for his conduct, and Connie had searched
them all out.
A truck the color of a blue jays wing pulled up in
front of the door. A lanky youth climbed from
behind the wheel, sauntered over, and rapped lazily
on the pane to attract Miss Maries attention.
She unlocked the door and let him in. Hello,
Henry. This is Miss Blair, of Reid and Renshaw.
Shes in charge of this expedition. Isnt that right?
Connie smiled. Mr. Jones is in charge, but Im
assisting. The plan is that Ill ride out with you to
17

the zoo.
The zoo? Henrys Adams apple bobbed.
Ymean were doin this job in the zoo?
His astonishment seemed almost alarm, so that
Connie laughed spontaneously. Thats right. Any
objection?
Well, no. But Henry sounded a trifle dubious.
Just so the animals dont take a nip at one of the
coats, eh, Henry? Miss Marie was trying to conquer
her weariness by being jocular.
Theyre behind bars, aint they?
Oh, sure, sure.
Whatll they think of next? Henry asked the
world at large. Takin pictures of fur coats in a
zoo.
Connie laughed, then glanced at her wrist watch.
Wed better get started, she suggested. Were due
at the gate at nine-thirty. Theres something about
the early light being softerphotographers talk I
never quite understand.
Miss Marie again unlocked the door, and Henry
wheeled the rack of furs, cloaked discreetly in a
striped dust jacket, to the rear of the truck. It was
something of a feat to hoist the heavy rack singlehanded into the body of the vehicle, but Henry
accomplished it with a certain pride. Connie,
meanwhile, thanked Miss Marie for her assistance
and climbed into the seat next to the driver.
18

 Its a lovely day today she was humming

to herself when the young man came around to the
other side and slid behind the wheel.
Whats lovely about it? Henry asked gloomily.
Everything. The suns shining. Were going to
spend a whole morning outdoors.
In a zoo.
Dont you like zoos?
Henry shrugged.
What s your last name, Henry?
Colt. Henry Colt.
Do you want me to call you Henry or Mr. Colt?
Connie asked.
Henrys eyes, green flecked like a startled
animals, turned to meet hers. Call me Henry.
Everybody does.
After a moments silence Connie tried again.
Have you worked for Fabians long?
Bout a year.
Do you like ityour job, I mean?
Its O.K. In fact, I like it fine.
Henry was not, Connie decided, an avid
conversationalist. She considered giving up the
attempt to be friendly, but it did seem as though they
should have some common meeting ground, if only
she could find it.
The opportunity came in the next moment, when
the lad swerved unexpectedly to avoid being side19

swiped by another car. These punk drivers! he

complained bitterly. They dont watch where
theyre goin half the time.
Henry, Connie noticed, handled the light truck
with pride and dexterity. Youre an unusually good
driver, Henry, she commented sincerely.
The boy positively beamed. Thank you kindly,
he said. I aim to be a road driver someday, or
maybe a reefer.
Road driverreefer? Both terms were
unfamiliar to Connie. Theyre the guys who haul
freight in big trucks. Reefers are refrigerator trucks.
They travel fast and mostly at night. Ive always
thought it would be kind of an interesting life.
Connie couldnt agree with him, but she didnt
say so. I should think this job would be interesting
enoughbut sort of scary, sometimesbeing
responsible for thousands and thousands of dollars
worth of furs. Why, the collection we have back
there right now must be worth a small fortune!
You mean am I frightened of hijackers? Henry
shook his head. Naw! I got a Babaco.
This double-talk in which Henry seemed to
indulge Connie found confusing. Whats a
Babaco? she asked.
Its a kind of super burglar alarm, Henry
explained. Its hidden away inside the hood with
electrical connections leading to the doors at the
20

back and the ones right here. He leaned across

Connie and snapped a catch. I usually keep em
locked, like this. Then if a stranger tampers with the
truck, the alarm begins to shriek and roar. You can
hear it five miles away on a clear day, he bragged.
Really? Connie was impressed. I suppose any
ordinary thief would run the minute it starts.
You bet!
But suppose a really determined hijacker pulls a
gun and forces you to shut it off.
O.K. O.K. So Im willing. I can do it all right,
but its a slow job. I gotta press buttons on the
dashboard and turn keys in special locks. By the
time Im through tinkerin theres bound to be help
on the way.
But what would prevent a hijacker from driving
the truck off in the meantime? Connie asked.
Babacos attached to the engines starter. As
long as the siren blows, the engine wont go. Henry
spoke proudly. Pretty nifty, what?
I should say so. Her bright hair glinted in the
sunshine as Connie nodded her head. No wonder
youre not scared to be driving around with a cargo
of valuable furs.
They had turned into the parkway and were
approaching the vast bulk of the art museum, built
high on a rock foundation. Before it fountains
played, and on the spreading steps a couple of
21

pigeons walked sedately side by side. Connie sat for

a while in silence, no longer feeling ill at ease with
Henry, because she had found a subject in which
they were both interested. Every person in the world
is different, she mused. It isnt wise to give up too
easily. There was something to be learned from
everyone, even a young man who seemed a little
dull witted and taciturn.
You go out the West River Drive, dont you?
Henry asked as they made the circle.
Thats right. Connie turned and looked at
Henry in frank surprise. Havent you ever been to
the zoo?
Not me. Henry shook his head vigorously.
Oh, you must go out and spend a day
sometime! Connie cried. Its a wonderful place!
Its the oldest zoo in the United States, you know,
and one of the most famous. Theres a new Bird
House and a new Carnivora House that are perfectly
marvelous and
A what?
A Carnivora House. Thats where they keep the
big catslions and tigers and cheetahs and so
forth.
You can have it, sister. For my money Ill go to
a show instead.
Connie laughed. Dont you like animals? I adore
them.
22

Maybe you wouldnt adore em so much if they

werent on the other side of good strong iron bars.
But thats just the point. Theyre in cages, and
youre just as safe as you are she hesitatedas
you are with your Babaco right here in this truck.
Ill take Babaco instead of a baboon any day in
the week. Henry drove onto the bridge over the
Schuylkill River and refused to be disturbed by
Connies amused chuckle. The north entrance, you
said?
Yes. I think you turn left up the river a way.
Connie leaned forward and began to watch the road.
Here, she said after a few minutes. Theres a
parking area on Thirty-fourth Street, right by the
gate.
A high spiked fence surrounded the zoo, and from
a pen directly in front of the cobblestoned parking
strip a dromedary stared haughtily at the blue
delivery truck. Connie and her driver were the first
to arrive, so they pulled in close to the gate and
awaited i he others. There were surprisingly few cars
on hand, Connie thought, until she became aware
that the zoo was not yet open to the public.
Ten oclock, moaned a passing child to his
mother. Thats a heck of an hour to open.
Practically afternoon.
Henry grinned. Hes young yet. Hell learn.
I wonder why that youngster isnt in school?
23

Connie asked idly. It isnt a holiday or anything, is

it?
Not that I know of, Henry replied. Unless
theres a Teachers Institute.
Ill bet thats it, Connie remarked as a bus
discharged a sizable group of children. Well, I
guess well have a little competition. Wouldnt it be
just our luck to hit this particular day! But she
wasnt especially disturbed, even though the
presence of a crowd might give Mr. Rome a little
difficulty. She loved to watch the bright, eager faces
of the youngsters, and enjoyed the wonder with
which they eyed the curious creatures who lived in
the zoo.
By the time Mr. Jones drove up with the models
there was quite a throng around the gate. He pulled
in next to the Fabian truck and called across to
Connie, Sorry to be late, but one of the models
didnt show up. We finally got a message shes ill.
Maybe youll have to pinch hit.
Me? Connies hands flew instinctively to her
hair, which she had not bothered to set last night.
Although she had done some modeling at
Campions, the department store where her aunt
worked and where she had been employed briefly as
a model for college clothes (and incidentally solved
a strange mystery by discovering The Clue in Blue),
Connie felt that today she looked far from
24

glamorous enough to be photographed in one of the

beautiful furs from Mr. Fabians salon.
Mr. Jones managed a smile. Youll do, he said,
which was the closest thing to a compliment he had
ever paid her.
Almost immediately Gregory Rome, driving a
yellow convertible with a black top, turned in from
the street. He honked and waved at Connie, found a
spot to park, and started to unload his camera
equipment from the luggage compartment.
Connie, meanwhile, was introduced by Mr. Jones
to the three models, Griselda Wood, a tall brunette
with a willowy figure, Donna Jean Johnson, a
redhead with remarkable ivory skin, and Carmen
Lovelace, a near-blonde with a sharp-featured,
photogenic face and a catlike manner of walking.
Connie greeted them politely, trying to fix the names
in her memory so that she could introduce them in
turn to the publicity director, who had promised to
meet them at the gate and attend them on their
expedition.
Andrew Macraethere was a forthright name for
you! Next to the fancy, patently assumed surnames
of the models, it sounded comfortingly solid and
Scotch. Mr. Macrae had been very courteous over
the phone, both hospitablein behalf of the zoo
and understanding. Connie hoped he was as nice as
he sounded, because with the complication of the
25

unexpected hordes of school children and the

absence of one of the models this promised to be
quite a day.
Finally their little caravan was organized. Henry,
pushing his four-wheeled cart noisily over the
cobblestones, led the way, with Connie walking
along at his side. The three models straggled behind
them, looking very bored, and the photographer and
Mr. Jones, who between them barely managed to
carry all the photographic equipment, brought up the
rear.
The throng of children, impatiently waiting for
the gate to open, curbed their excitement for a few
minutes to stare at the strange procession. Connie
heard one schoolgirl whisper to another, Isnt she
pretty? and was surprised to find them looking
directly at her, rather than at one of the fashion
models just behind.
Mr. Macrae is expecting us, Connie told the
ticket seller at the cashiers window. She gave Reid
and Renshaws name.
Oh, yes. Mr. Macrae told me to telephone when
you arrived. Hes in his office now, but it wont take
him five minutes to get here. You can wait right
inside.
With a certain amount of confusion the awkward
cart was jockeyed through the gates. The girls
followed; then Gregory Rome and Windham Jones
26

pushed through, draped with straps and satchels and

tripods, and already breathing hard.
Well do the outdoor shots right away, Mr.
Rome said as they rested. The indoor stuff can
wait, if necessary, until this afternoon.
From a distance, along the macadam path, Connie
could see a young man approaching with an easy
stride. She was aware, almost at once, that he was
broad of shoulder and rather tanned for this time of
year. He had crisp light-brown hair, dark eyes, and a
generous grin. Although the day was cool, he wore
no topcoatonly a sports jacket over a chamois
vest.
Miss Blair? He came to her directly, hand
outstretched.
Yes. Connie liked him at once. Mr. Macrae,
this is Mr. Jones, our art director. She was prepared
to continue the introductions, but Mr. Jones took the
matter out of her hands.
How do you do, he said brusquely, giving Mr.
Macraes hand a quick shake. He introduced
Gregory Rome but ignored the models, as though
they were so many pieces of furniture, to be admired
but not addressed.
Very good of you to let us come out here, he
mentioned in passing, without any particular
warmth. Now, lets see, Connie. Whats our first
shot?
27

Connie didnt have to glance at her list. The

otter, I think, she said.
Andrew Macrae smiled at her. Right. I hope
youre prepared for quite a walk. The otter pool is in
the southwest section. He pointed a descriptive
finger. Suppose you and I lead the way.
Connie didnt need to be invited twice. She
noticed that Griselda and Donna Jean and Carmen
had abandoned their expressions of bored
indifference the moment Mr. Macrae had come upon
the scene. All right. Ready, Henry? She turned for
just a moment to the delivery truck driver, whose
nod of assent contained a certain reluctance. Then
she started off.
And at that very moment a clock, in the distance,
struck ten. School children poured through the
entrance gate and surrounded them like a swarm of
honeybees. For the moment, until llamas or giraffes
should prove more entertaining, Connie and her
retinue were the feature attraction, and the
youngsters danced and pranced beside them, asking
questions and peeping under the concealing dust
cover to exclaim over the fur coats.
Henry barked at the mischief-makers. Let go
there, he ordered ominously. Get along. This aint
no parade.
Andrew Macrae grinned at the kids, and assured
Henry, Theyre quite harmless.
28

Thats all well and good, Henry retorted with a

conscientious frown, but I gotta turn up at the shop
with thirteen coatssame as I started out withand
in a mob like this anything can happen, and
sometimes does!

29

CHAPTER

Outside the Gorilla Cage

The strange little procession rattled along winding

paths, past two-humped camels, vicunas, alpacas,
guanacos. The sight of a baby llama, promenading
with his mother, made Connie stop and exclaim for
a moment, distracting the bulk of the school
children, who remained with their noses pressed
against the wire fencing while the Reid and
Renshaw group continued toward the otter pool.
Sometimes I feel sorry for animals in captivity,
Connie mentioned to the young publicity man
sauntering along at her side.
He nodded. I know how you feel, but youre
really wasting your sympathy. Wild animals in
freedom arent really free, you see. They follow a
restricted routine, punctuated by terror. Each has
enemies, including man, from which it must
constantly flee. Wild animals are often hungry and
30

diseased. The lucky ones, I think, land in zoos.

It was a completely new idea to Connie. She
looked at Andrew Macrae doubtfully. You really
mean that?
He grinned at her. I do. The strongest
psychological need of most animals is for a home. In
nature, animals range over a large territory only to
seek food. Here its provided, and space becomes,
consequently, unimportant.
Well!
Come out, sometime, when youre bent on
pleasure rather than business, and Ill take you on an
escorted tour, Mr. Macrae offered when he realized
that Connie was really interested.
Ill take you up on that, she promised as they
passed the Reptile House and turned toward the
enclosure where penguins were moving about with
the solemnity of ambassadors at a dinner party.
The models behind them stopped gossiping
among themselves and seemed interested for the
first time. My golly! exclaimed Griselda, in a
voice which ill became her aloof manner. Would
you look at that. If they dont look like a bunch of
sugar daddies in white ties and tails!
The remark was so spontaneous that even Henry
laughed. It was easy to see what interested Griselda
Wood. Connie could visualize her, a few years from
now, mincing contentedly along on spike heels,
31

wearing a mink coat as handsome as the one under

the denim dust cover.
It had always astonished Connie that to some
women mink was synonymous with success. They
would fight for it, slave for it, even commit a crime
for it. Griselda Wood, featherbrained but singleminded, might be one of those.
Shaking off such an unexpected, accidental
thought, Connie walked on. Just past the Kangaroo
House, Mr. Macrae cut to the left. Stick with us,
he called over his shoulder to the girls, whose steps
were beginning to lag. Were almost there.
The otter pool was bathed in autumn sunlight, to
the satisfaction of Gregory Rome. He set up his
tripod and busied himself among his camera
equipment while the rest of the group stood around
and chatted, with the exception of Henry, who
seemed vaguely unhappy and withdrawn.
Although Mr. Jones had not lost the worried
expression between his eyes, he seemed, to Connie,
a great deal more human this morning. Maybe its
the fresh air, she decided. Poor man, he probably
just needs to relax. After all, she could remember
with considerable exactitude her feelings when she
had first taken a position with Reid and Renshaw. It
was possible that, no matter how high up in the
advertising hierarchy a person went, he might still
have butterflies in his tummy when he faced a
32

brand-new job.
Donna Jean, who was to wear the otter greatcoat,
recombed her hair and checked her make-up in a
vanity mirror held by Carmen Lovelace, who looked
a trifle indifferent to the whole routine. Henry took
from the rack the coat Connie indicated and held it
while the model slipped into it. The shot called for a
pair of binoculars slung over her shoulder and a
blue-green scarf knotted around her throat. She was
to look casual, sporting, but elegant withal.
Gregory Romes eyes widened in approval when
he saw her. Were doing this in black and white
and also in color, Mr. Jones reminded him, in case
Mr. Fabian decides to take some slick magazine
space.
The photographer nodded understandingly,
although Connie could see that the remark sounded
like a kind of double-talk to Henry. Andrew Macrae,
however, was both comprehending and interested.
When Mr. Jones said, Hadnt she better remove a
little of that lipstick, Greg? he nodded approvingly.
Connie smiled, equally aware that the rouge would
photograph too dark. She went forward and adjusted
the fall of the fur to catch more interesting high
lights. Then the whole company stood back as the
photographer jockeyed his tripod into position and
Donna Jean held her pose.
Chin dropped a little . . . no, too much . . . little
33

higher . . . higher . . . there! Now the right hand, on

the binoculars. The fingers are too stiff. Relax.
Shake your hand and try again. Thats better. Now
dampen your lips. Look interested. My gosh,
wouldnt that otter shake his head! All right, well
try again.
It was a long, grueling hour. When an otter would
obligingly take a position of interest, the model and
the camera would move to a new spot. Connie,
accustomed to the hazards of the game, was patient
but a little concerned. Water mammals, she could
see, would prove a gamble at best. Shed be glad
when they moved inside, to pose the models against
the more restricting confines of a cage.
Finally, however, Gregory pronounced himself
satisfied, and the group moved on to an adjacent
pool, where seals and sea lions played.
Whats the difference between the two? Connie
asked Mr. Macrae. They all look alike to me.
The most noticeable difference is that sea lions
have small external ears and seals havent. Look
carefully. Youll see.
The publicity man seemed especially interested in
the matara-dyed Alaska seal jacket Carmen
Lovelace was modeling. These fur seals, he told
her, are caught off the Pribilof Islands. Theyve
been under the protection of our Fish and Wildlife
Service, you know, for many years.
34

Carmen obviously didnt know, nor did she very

much care, though because it was a young and rather
handsome man speaking she assumed a show of
curiosity. You dont say! she murmured, looking
up at Andrew Macrae. Well, imagine that.
Connie noted, with restrained amusement, that
this ended Mr. Macraes attempt to be informative.
He came back to stand by her side and admire
Carmens pantherlike grace from a distance.
Sometimes people are more interesting than
animals, he muttered after a few minutes, as though
to himself.
But Connie was thinking precisely the opposite.
She was laughing at the antics of the sea lions,
natural clowns, who were doing all manner of tricks,
versatile as circus performers and almost as anxious
for applause.
Everything contrived to make this shot an easy
one to stage. As though they were camera-wise, two
seals conveniently backed up on their flippers and
rubbed noses just as Carmen got into position.
Gregory clicked his shutter and the scene was
captured. That, he told his audience, should be a
wow.
Youre sure those were seals, not sea lions? Mr.
Jones asked fussily. We ought to be authentic about
this.
We can always paint out their ears, if necessary.
35

Got to give the retouching boys a little work.

Connie glanced at her watch, then suggested,
We still have time for the raccoon before lunch.
Right, agreed the art director, and once more
the group moved on. This time, Connie walked with
the other girls, and the men went ahead.
Gee, isnt he cute? whispered Donna Jean to
Griselda, then turned to include Connie in the
question.
Who? Connie asked impishly. Mr. Jones?
Dont be silly, Griselda cut in. Windy Jones is
the spittin image of a henpecked husband. Macrae
is Donna Jeans boy.
Henpecked husband, Connie thought, amused.
She rather suspected that Griselda, in her slapdash
way, had hit the nail on the head.
Is the Macrae lad single? Carmen wanted to
know.
He hasnt discussed his private life with me,
Connie told her bluntly. We just met this morning,
you know. What she didnt confess was that she
strongly suspected that Mr. Macrae was unmarried,
because there was a certain expression in his eyes
that led her to believe that he found her attractive.
An unwarranted prick of jealousy made Connie
sound abrupt, and the conversation halted, the three
models steering clear of an unsympathetic point of
view.
36

Kate Travis was to have worn the raccoon, Mr.

Jones, Connie told the art director a few minutes
later. It will fit Carmen, however. She waited for
his decision before asking Henry to get the coat.
You try it on, Windham Jones suggested.
Rather reluctantly, Connie put her arms into the
sleeves and walked a few paces back and forth.
No, her superior decreed. Its not your type.
Carmen, fortunately, looked seductively boyish in
the rather bulky coat, but it was difficult to get a
good picture because the animals were indisposed to
co-operate. It took the help of the keeper to engineer
them into a photographic position, and even then
Gregory was dubious as to the results.
I think wed better break for lunch now, Mr.
Jones said. Is there any place on the grounds where
we can get something to eat?
We only have refreshment stands for the public,
but Ive made arrangements to take you to the
employees luncheonette, if you like, Mr. Macrae
said.
It didnt, apparently, appeal to the models, but
Connie was intrigued by the idea of eating lunch
along with the keepers and guards and other workers
in the zoo. She had a dozen and one questions she
wanted to ask Mr. Macrae, and she was delighted
when she found herself seated next to him at the
long counter, while Mr. Jones sat between Donna
37

Jean and Griselda Wood.

Most of the employees greeted the publicity
director in a friendly fashion, some even stopping to
chat. Got a story for you, Andy, one keeper
announced. Theres an old fellow tossing tracts
against sin into the snakes terrarium. Been there a
couple of hours or more.
Mr. Macrae laughed. Hope he handed a couple
to you, he kidded.
Me? The keeper pretended to be incensed. I
got no need for tracts. The missus takes me to
church reglar as clockwork, as you know right
well.
Connie ate her sandwich and sipped her coffee in
silence as she listened to the interchange. The talk
about zoo activities was as different from the
advertising chitchat to which she was accustomed as
chocolate is from vanilla. She found it interesting,
even stimulating, in much the same way Griselda
seemed to enjoy discussing expensive furs.
Right now the models on either side of the art
director were still talking about mink and sable,
pondering the probable prices of the garments they
had been wearing and deciding, much as children
play make-believe games, which they would prefer
to own.
Make mine sable, Donna Jean said in her
penetrating nasal tone. Everybody and her great38

aunt wears mink.

Its still my fur, Griselda said firmly. Theres
nothing gives a girl such a feeling of being wrapped
up in luxury as mink.
Goodness, Connie thought, as she saw the
covetous expression in Griseldas eyes, it must be
dreadful to be so materialistic, to want something
very expensive so much. She knew, without needing
to ask, that Griselda would despise her own new
muskrat, which was almost as soft and warm as the
valuable mink hanging on the rack.
The rack! Connie swung around on her stool and
glanced out the window, to where Henry Colt stood
patiently lounging against a tree, one foot idly
prodding a caster. She finished her sandwich
hurriedly and slipped down. Excuse me. Ill trade
places with Henry. He must be hungry too.
Henry abandoned his charge without much show
of reluctance. Just tell any kids to keep hands off,
he told Connie. Thats all you have to do. He
started off, then turned back with a perplexed
expression in his watery blue eyes. Say, he began,
his Adams apple jumping, are we aimin to spend
a week out here? The way I figure it, weve only got
three pitures, and we got thirteen coats.
Connies laugh was hearty and sympathetic. We
brought three styles along in some of the furs, she
reassured him. Just in case the composition wasnt
39

right for a certain length.

Henry scratched his head, unable to comprehend
this explanation. In any event, the main point was
clear. He stated it. We finish up this afternoon?
Thats right. Connie added, Unless theres
some unexpected difficulty. We have to skip the
beaver and put that in with the group shot. Beavers,
Mr. Macrae says, are nocturnal creatures, a small
point of which Mr. Jones and I were quite unaware.
Henry shook his head and loped off. Most of this
was just so much Greek to him, his manner stated.
Connie stood by the rack of coats and planned the
group shot in her mind. She thought the girls might
be feeding some of the peacocks that wandered,
unrestricted, about the grounds. Were peacocks ever
fed by hand? Well, at any rate, they could be
admiring them. And the blue peafowl seemed to
delight in showing off before visitors. It should be a
natural and an easy photograph to get.
This out of the way, they went on to the indoor
shots. Henry trundled his cart along a little
reluctantly, and Connie thought he cringed when the
lion roared, but she couldnt be sure.
They stopped before a cage of leopards. Cats,
Andy Macrae called them. He had chosen a pair of
particularly handsome spotted leopards which
padded endlessly back and forth behind the bars.
The coat to be photographed was a trim, three40

quarter length model which was to have been worn

by the absent Kate. Griselda tried it on but it was too
small for her. On neither Donna Jean nor Carmen
was it especially becoming, so Connie finally
slipped into it and posed for the shot. Her hair was
almost as tawny as the pelts, and her skin tones were
just deep enough to complement the color
combination. Gregory Rome nodded his head in
approval.
Weve got something here, he said.
He worked quite a while to get the lights just
right, so that the bars of the cage would form the
proper pattern and the prowling beasts would be in
focus as well as the girl in the foreground. Henry,
standing back against the wall by the coat rack,
fidgeted and shifted from one foot to the other
impatiently until the photographer snapped, Cant
you stand still?
Connie had noticed that, as the day progressed,
Mr. Rome became increasingly edgy. She supposed
that this was an especially grueling assignment,
because fashion photographs always called for a
kind of perfection, and she tried to be as helpful and
as co-operative as possible.
She could not forestall, however, a disagreement
between the photographer and the art director which
occurred a little later in the afternoon. Only one shot
remained to be takenthe picture featuring the prize
41

of the entire Fabian collection, the natural royal

pastel mink coat worth fifteen thousand dollars that
Connie had admired in the shop. Whether or not it
had been ordered by the actress who had tried it on
she didnt know, but in any event it had been
hurriedly lined and Mr. Fabian wanted to use it in
his new advertising campaign.
There were no mink in the zoo, and even if there
had been, Mr. Rome pooh-poohed the notion that
they could be photographed effectively. Nor did he
like Mr. Joness suggestion that the marvelous mink
coat be photographed against the background of
birds of brilliant plumage.
That hasnt any punch, he said firmly. Nine
people out of ten would miss the point.
Have you a better idea? Mr. Jones asked a bit
testily.
How about this? Connie proposed. Do a
contrast shot. Picture a beautiful girlGriselda, in
this caseagainst the ugliest animal we can find.
The gorilla, said Mr. Macrae.
All right. The gorilla. Thats a good idea.
Gregory Rome said, Not bad, but Mr. Jones
shook his head. I dont like it.
Why not? the photographer wanted to know.
A big animal like that would dwarf the
importance of the coat.
Not if we could manage to get a picture in which
42

the gorilla seems to be looking at the mink

admiring it, Connie said.
Mr. Rome whistled. Thats a large order!
But we could try.
Yes, we could try, Mr. Jones finally agreed,
when Andrew Macrae added his support to Connies
suggestion. So the entire party left the Carnivora
House and went across to the building in which the
monkeys were kept. This was an older type building,
neither so large nor so impressive as the doublewinged Carnivora House. The gorilla they chose to
photograph was a four-hundred-pound beast lodged
in a cage near the rear door, and he was sufficiently
hideous to make Griselda shudder in repulsion.
You mean I got to stand alongside of that?
Not in the cage. Right here by the guard rail,
Gregory Rome told the girl in a weary attempt at
humor. Then he adjusted the tripod on his camera
and started to set up his lights.
A keeper appeared from the kitchen behind the
gorillas cage and Connie immediately recognized
Joe Ryan. She went up and introduced herself, and
the stout fellows mouth spread in a wide grin.
Sure I remember you. Hows your aunt? Shes
one fine lady.
Aunt Bets in the pink, Connie assured him.
How do you like working in a zoo?
Joe made a circle with thumb and finger. Its
43

better than painting ceilings any day in the week.

You must have a pretty responsible job, for
having been here onlyhow long is it now?
Going on two years, Joe said. I got a real
break when one of the keepers here in the Monkey
House took sick. I was in snakes before that and I
like this a heap better.
Mr. Macrae came up to the pair. Joes done a
swell job, he told Connie. It isnt every young
keeper whod be trusted with a job in this particular
house. Primates can be unpredictable.
But theyre interesting, Joe said. And
sometimes theyre mighty comical. He gestured
toward the chimpanzees at the other end of the
house. Those kids do everything but talk, he
assured Connie.
Andrew Macrae laughed. Joe loves them, he
murmured. Thats why hes good with them.
All right, Mr. Rome called. Lets get the
model placed, Miss Blair.
Connie turned back to station Griselda
strategically while the photographer readjusted his
lights, which were so hot that Connie decided to
withhold the mink coat until the very last minute.
The keeper, meanwhile, had retired to the narrow
passage behind the gorillas cage, and was trying to
rouse the great beast, who was sleeping in a corner,
as Mr. Macrae said he frequently did after being fed.
44

Joe prodded him gently with the end of a broom but

he only grunted and edged away, refusing to be
disturbed.
Come on, fellow, get up on your feet there, Joe
urged.
The gorilla merely rolled over, out of reach of I
he broomstick, and lay curled in a ball like a
gigantic dormouse.
Thats just dandy, commented Mr. Rome.
Well get a shot thatll knock em cold at this rate.
Wait a minute. Ill get him awake. Joe
unlocked the cage door and leaned inside, fruitlessly
trying to attract the gorillas attention.
Henry Colt, meanwhile, waited just behind the
model, with the royal mink coat draped tenderly
over his arm. Connie thought he seemed pale and
unhappy, as though he would prefer to be anywhere
except inside this Monkey House, but she didnt
waste much sympathy on him because he, like the
rest of them, had a job to do.
Ill get a stalk of celery. Hes crazy about
celery, Joe called to the group in front of the cage.
Ive never seen him yet when hes been too full to
eat a little more.
He banged the cage door shut and went into the
kitchen directly behind it just as a troupe of school
children came, shouting and laughing, through the
door at the other end of the building. At the sight of
45

the camera and the group of adults they were

undismayed, but they abandoned their original
intention of looking at the animals and swarmed
around Mr. Rome and the Reid and Renshaw group
in spite of Andrew Macraes warning to stay clear of
the light cords. It seemed to Connie that there must
be half a hundred of them, they created such
confusion. Henry hovered solicitously between
Griselda and his rack of coats, and while Mr. Jones
was trying to help the publicity director marshal the
youngsters into some kind of order, the gorilla, quite
unexpectedly, stretched and got to all fours.
Never mind, Mr. Ryan, hes awake now!
Connie called to the keeper, who appeared in the
kitchen doorway with the celery just at that moment,
but her voice was lost in the din.
At that instant the brute turned and seemed to
look at her directly, baring his fangs and beating his
chest with his partially clenched fists. A shudder ran
through her body, instinctive and impossible to
quell, and she noticed that the photographers lights
threw the gorillas shadow, many times greater than
life size, upon the rear wall.
What a picture that would make! she cried, half
to Mr. Rome, half to herself. All right, Henry. Slip
the coat over Griseldas shoulders now.
Gregory was adjusting his camera, and Joe Ryan
had retired once more into the kitchen, when, with I
46

lumbering speed that seemed completely incredible,

the gorilla ran to the back of the cage, lifted the
latch, and walked coolly out the door!

47

CHAPTER

The Missing Mink

The shocked silence of disbelief lasted for no more

than a second. Then pandemonium broke loose as
the crowd of onlookers in the Monkey House
realized that the huge gorilla was at large.
Walking erect, with his long arms outstretched,
the six-foot beast padded toward the kitchen in
pursuit of his keeper as the screams of children and
the piercing yells of the terrified models mingled
with Andrew Macraes shout of warning to
unsuspecting Joe Ryan. Connie herself was so
utterly flabbergasted that she stood completely still.
Then, recovering her presence of mind, she did
the sensible thing. The children had to be hurried out
of the building, away from possible harm. She
clapped her hands and issued orders like a schoolteacher or a major general. Quick now! This way!
Afterward, Connie had no very clear picture in
48

her mind of the few minutes immediately following

the gorillas escape. She was conscious that another
keepernot Joecame to her assistance with the
children, who were inclined to rush the door in a
pell-mell horde, clawing and scratching their way to
freedom. Andy Macrae was there too, marshaling
the crowd into some kind of order. She was
conscious of the grave danger, and she had a vivid
mental image of the lawless strength of the gorillas
four-foot arms, but she had no sense of personal
fear. Like Andy and the keeper, she worked calmly.
Then, over the loud-speaker system, came a
mans steady voice:
Visitors, attention. This is an emergency. Listen
carefully, please. All visitors go to the nearest
building promptly. I repeat. All visitors go to the
nearest building promptly. Thank you.
Connie turned the last of the children toward the
Kangaroo House. Go over there, she told them,
and wait inside.
Good work, miss, said a keeper at her elbow
approvingly. Then, as she was about to turn back to
the building which had just been evacuated, he took
her arm. Youd better stay clear too.
Connie looked around for Andy Macrae,
suddenly aware of her obligation to Reid and
Renshaw and to Mr. Fabian. She wanted to make
sure that Henry had managed to wheel the rack of
49

coats to safety before she abandoned her job.

Just a minute. Please! Ive got to see Connie
tried to shake off the keepers restraining hand, but
the man kept a kindly but firm grip on her arm. She
tried to explain her responsibility for the fur coats,
but in the noise and confusion she couldnt make
him understand.
Im sorry, miss, but I cant let you go back in
there. Its as much as my job would be worth.
At that moment a new din arose from the interior
of the building, a rattling and banging which
mingled with the wild chattering of the monkeys and
the resonant shouting of the gibbons. It came, quite
obviously, from the kitchen at the rear of the house.
The keeper dropped Connies arm and hurried up
the steps just as the publicity director reappeared
with Joe Ryan, who was clutching his left sleeve.
Joe, are you hurt? Connie asked before she
noticed a trickle of blood staining the blue of his
work shirt.
The keeper looked more startled than frightened,
although he seemed a little white around the mouth.
He bit me, he said as though he were surprised.
He bit me when I tried to get him to go back to his
cage.
Its just a surface wound, Andy Macrae said
consolingly, whether truthfully or not Connie
couldnt be sure. But you ought to get to a doctor,
50

Joe, in any event, for an anti-tetanus shot. He

signaled to a workman with a rake. See that Mr.
Ryan gets to the administration building, please.
Cant I? Connie started, wanting to be
helpful, but she stopped abruptly as she once more
remembered the fur coats. Donna Jeans red head
had disappeared inside the Kangaroo House along
with the crowd of children, but not another person in
the Reid and Renshaw group had she seen. It was
more than probable that the rest, she realized
belatedly, had made their escape through the rear
door, and that Henry and his rack of furs was among
them. So as Andrew Macrae turned back to the steps
she ran along the path which skirted the building,
and, ignoring the call of another keeper, arrived at
the back door.
The gorilla was on a real tear now, clearly
enough. He was having a rip-snorting time in the
kitchen, apparently banging pans and feed buckets
together and hurling any movable utensil at the
locked door. A keeper was running along the path
from the service building carrying a basket filled
with avocados and peanuts, but by now the other
two models, Henry, and Mr. Jones had evidently
been ushered into one of the other houses, because
only a few zoo employees were abroad.
Once more came the calm masculine voice over
the loud-speaker system: All visitors go to the
51

nearest building promptly. This is an emergency.

Connie realized that probably relatively few of the
guests realized that a gorilla was at large. She also
realized that her chances of getting back inside the
Monkey House were nil. Right now her best bet was
to find the rest of her crowd.
It was a tossup as to whether Mr. Jones and the
rest had been ushered to the Carnivora House or to
the Kangaroo House, where the children had been
sent. From the spot in which Connie stood either
seemed equally convenient.
Youd better get going, young lady, said the
fellow with the avocados as he passed her.
Connie nodded absently. If only she had thought
to ask Mr. Macrae. She glanced back toward the
Monkey House as she started reluctantly along the
macadam path, and as though in answer to an
unspoken prayer, Andrew Macrae appeared at the
rear door to let the man with the basketful of food
inside.
Wait a minute! he called to her.
She waited willingly.
Theyre going to try to lure Congo back to his
cage with his favorite foods, the young publicity
man explained as he approached her. The only
trouble is, hes just been fed, so he probably isnt
hungry.
If that doesnt work, then what? Connie wanted
52

to know.
Andy Macrae shrugged. Then we bring out one
or another of our secret weapons. He grinned as he
said it but he didnt explain further. Come along to
one of the other buildings, he urged, before we get
arrested for loitering.
Oh, Mr. Macrae! Connie started.
Call me Andy. Everybody does.
Andy, thenI just want to make sure Henry got
the rack of furs out safely. Do you know where he
went?
Well try the Kangaroo House first. That seems
to be the most obvious. Then Mr. Macrae stopped
short. Say! I think the racks still inside there. Wait
a minute.
He turned and sprinted back to the building,
where two keepers were bringing a ladder to rest
against the kitchen window sill, inside which Congo
was still raising a frightful racket, apparently unattracted as yet by the delicacies brought to tempt
him away from his rough play. Connie saw him rap
on the door and signal someone inside, then slip
through as it was opened. A couple of minutes later
he reappeared, trundling the rack of fur coats over
the doorsill and lifting it down the steps with the
help of a member of the zoo staff.
Well! Connie ejaculated. Henry must have
deserted.
53

She came over and helped Andy wheel the rather

awkward vehicle along the sloping walk.
He probably was scared green and ran without
thinking.
Connie nodded. Better lose Henry than the coats,
I guess.
Andy started to walk faster. I have strict orders
to get you inside somewhere and not to let you out
until the excitement is over, he told her. It seems
youve been creating quite a stir, wandering around
here unescorted when an emergency order has been
issued.
All right, Connie agreed as she quickened her
pace. But Im not a bit scared.
You would be, if Congo should manage to get
free of that kitchen! You saw what he did to Joe
Ryan, just on impulse. And Joes a guy he usually
likes.
Without another mans help, it was impossible to
lift the laden coat rack up the steps to the Kangaroo
House, so Connie and Andy each gathered up an
armful of the garments and, half smothered in fur,
staggered up the steps. The keeper opened the
locked door in some astonishment, and the mob of
children inside reacted as though the pair were
characters in a comic television show. They
crowded around, pushing and pawing at the furs in
spite of the keepers strict orders to stay back.
54

Better let us dump these in your kitchen, Andy

suggested, unless you think one of the kangaroos
might get loose, just to add to the sport.
Connie thankfully relinquished her burden,
although she shuddered to think what Mr. Fabian
would say if he could see his expensive garments
being flung casually across a wooden counter on
which animals meals were served up.
Will you see if Henrys in the crowd outside?
she asked Andy. I saw Donna Jean coming in here,
but the rest of the crowd must have gone out the
back way.
It turned out that Donna Jean and Carmen were
both there, but Henry and Mr. Jones must have been
sent to the Carnivora or the Antelope House,
according to the keepers guess.
I didnt notice which way they went, Carmen
confessed. I just picked up my heels and ran.
At a time like that its every man for himself,
Donna Jean added, still pale with fright. What you
were doing, Miss Blair, hanging around outside
She shook her head.
Somebody had to think about the coats, Connie
said a trifle sharply.
Coats phooey, retorted Donna Jean. If you ask
me, between a mink and a gorilla, there just isnt
any choice.
Andy Macrae chuckled. Youve got something
55

there. Speaking of the gorilla, Id better check on

how theyre doing. Stay here. Ill be right back.
There was nowhere to stay but here, Connie
realized, as she looked from one end of the building
to the other, where guards barred both locked doors.
She stood with the two models in the doorway to the
kitchen, waiting a trifle anxiously.
But Andys face, when he returned, expressed
confidence that all would soon be well. They
pushed a baby alligator through the kitchen window
just a minute ago, he told them. Congo hates
alligators. Hes terrified of just two things, alligators
and garter snakes. If one doesnt drive him back to
his cage in a panic, the other one will.
Donna Jean and Carmen both looked at him in
astonishment. Are you kidding? they asked him
simultaneously.
Andy shook his head, although Connie thought
that the twinkle in his eyes was very misleading. I
never make a joke about anybody bigger than I am,
he assured them with a mischievous grin.
By standing on a chair, Connie could see through
a high window the forecourt of the Carnivora House
and a corner of the near wing of the Monkey House,
but by now the orders of the management had been
so carefully observed that there was little human
activity to watch. After about five minutes a keeper
came from the telephone and told Andy, in a low
56

voice, that everything was under control and that the

all clear was about to be sounded.
Andy relayed this message to the three girls and
suggested that they each carry out an armful of coats
before the crowd started to pour from the various
houses into the zoo grounds.
Youre sure its all right? Donna Jean asked
doubtfully.
The keeper nodded. It took the garter snake to
do it, but I understand Congos cringing in the
corner of his cage right this minute, scared pretty
near to death. He sounded so sympathetic that
Connie grinned.
Im going to cringe in the back seat of Mr.
Joness car, Carmen announced, and the next time
the agency has an assignment at the zoo, they can

Oh, now! Connie interjected with a smile

meant to be encouraging. Youre not going to cry
havoc when the dangers past. It wont take us more
than half an hour to finish up.
Carmen looked at her aghast. If you think youre
going to get any one of us back into that Monkey
House youre crazy.
Youre speaking for Griselda too?
You bet your sweet life Im speaking for
Griselda. Shes probably halfway to Jersey City by
now, or I miss my bet.
57

Connie sighed. Well, she said with a grin at

Andy, I guess that means I model the mink. By the
way, where is the mink? She started sorting
through the coats on the counter, draping one after
another over the arms of either Carmen, Donna Jean,
or Andy Macrae. An anxious expression creased her
forehead and her heart seemed to drop with a heavy
thud into her stomach.
Why, she said, unable to keep a startled quaver
from her voice, it isnt here.
Dont worry. Griselda probably has it, Andy
said. Are the rest all accounted for?
Connie began to count rapidly. Yes, all but that
one.
Lets get them back on the rack, the publicity
director proposed. Then we can look up Griselda
or shell probably look us up. There goes the all
clear now.
Indeed, just as they started down the steps, the
doors of the other animal houses began to open and
the visitors cooped up in them poured out into the
fresh air, clutching their coats around them and
looking, for the most part, puzzled at the unknown
emergency that had caused their fifteen-minute
confinement behind locked doors. The afternoon
crowd included almost as many adults as children,
and in the sudden sunlight Connie began to search
for a familiar face.
58

Was that Henry? The sun was in her eyes; she

couldnt be sure. Then she saw Griselda, coming
toward her from the direction of the Antelope
House, a suede pocketbook dangling from one hand
but her arms otherwise empty.
Griselda! Connie cried as soon as the girl was
within hearing distance. Havent you got the mink
coat?
The model shook her head emphatically.
Well, I hope Mr. Jones or Henry Colt has it,
Connie called back a little frantically. Otherwise
itsits gone!

59

CHAPTER

Is Connie Responsible?

Gone?
Griselda stopped dead in her tracks, and a large
woman waddling along behind her had to swerve
sharply to avoid running her down. Laughing
nervously, she asked, But how could it be gone?
Whod care about a fur coat when theres a gorilla
on the rampage? Even a mink. Her too-perfect
features seemed to Connie to be sharpened by
anxiety, but at least she wasnt halfway to Jersey
City, as Carmen had predicted.
Connie shook her head. I dont know, she
admitted as her searching glance again raked the
crowd surging along the narrow walk. For a split
second she sawor thought she sawHenry Colts
head and shoulders behind a huddle of school
children. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from
the sun, and would have beckoned, but then his face,
60

Hooded suddenly with alarm, disappeared as a tree

cut him off from her view.
Hurrying around the corner of a refreshment
stand came Windham Jones. Miss Blair! he called
at once. Well, that was certainly a rat race! I never
saw a crowd scatter so fast.
Connie nodded automatically, scarcely conscious
of what the art director was saying because she was
filled with awareness that he, too, was empty-armed.
The mink coat, she said a trifle hoarsely. You
dont have it, Mr. Jones? Be calm, she tried to tell
herself. It cant have disappeared. There must be
some way to account for it. Perhaps its still in the
Monkey House. But such reassurance was absurd.
Andrew Macrae would have seen it, if it had been
lying on the guard rail or on the floor. The ugly
thought that it must have been stolen in the tumult
following Congos escape kept pursuing Connie like
a relentless demon. Stolen . . . fifteen thousand
dollars worth of mink!
Why should I have it? Mr. Jones was asking.
He turned to the model. Griselda, you?
Griselda shook her head. Dont look at me, Mr.
Jones. The last thing I remember was Miss Blair
asking Henry to bring it over. Then I saw that big
ape open the door and I cut and ran. She tossed her
head. Furthermore, Id do it again the same way.
You never had the coat on at all? Oh, why cant
61

I remember? Connie asked herself. Why cant I

remember what happened in those few seconds of
utter confusion? But willing didnt aid in
recollection. She couldnt visualize the whereabouts
of the coat at the time of Congos break, no matter
how hard she tried.
Henry! Mr. Jones cried suddenly, turning to
Andrew Macrae and Connie for confirmation.
Henry had the coat in his hands. I can see him! He
was just about to put it around Miss Woods
shoulders. Henry must have it! Where is that kid,
anyway?
II think I just saw hima minute ago, in the
crowd. Then he disappeared.
Mr. Jones snapped his fingers. I saw him too,
come to think of it. He had the coat over his arm.
But where is he now? You dont suppose?
Suppose what? asked Griselda, who had to
have everything diagramed for her. Connie knew
exactly what Windham Jones was supposing. But
Henry had seemed like such an honest, though
taciturn, lad.
It could be a great temptation, Mr. Jones said as
though he had hit on the answer. Weve got to act
fast. Find Henry and well undoubtedly find the
coat!
Connie looked at Andy Macrae, who was
frowning. In any event, he replied, wed better
62

phone to have all exits covered. The time has been

so short! The coat must still be on the grounds
somewhere. That much is sure.
He sprinted up the steps of the Kangaroo House
to telephone while Connie and Mr. Jones waited, a
little apart from the three models, who were
comparing notes on their reactions to the gorillas
escape. Of the three only Griselda Wood seemed
greatly disturbed by the loss of the mink. Donna
Jean and Carmen, having no responsibility in the
matter, had no special interest. They only reacted
strongly to experience that touched their lives
directly. This was somebody elses worry, not theirs.
But can you imagine, Donna Jean was saying,
what youd have done if that gorilla had walked
right on out of the kitchen?
Carmen had an answer. Id have died.
Connie heard the dialogue as from a great
distance. Let me take one more look in the Monkey
House, she murmured to Mr. Jones. It was
impossible for her to believe that Henry Colt could
be a thief. She wanted to check on every possibility
before she let herself be persuaded that Mr. Joness
assumption might be right.
Joe Ryan had not returned to his post but the head
keeper and his one remaining assistant were
standing just inside the doorway, talking together,
when Connie walked in.
63

Shafts of sunlight streamed in from the high

windows, and aside from half a dozen visitors the
aisle between the cages was completely empty. Even
the scattered camera equipment had been gathered
up and taken outside. Connie flung a distressed look
in the direction of Congo, who was once more
slumbering contentedly in a corner of his cage, quite
unaware that the disturbance he had created was
accompanied by an unpleasant aftermath. Neither
the gorilla nor the keepers offered the slightest clue
as to where the mink coat might be found.
Still, Connie questioned the men thoroughly.
Both professed to have been so concerned with their
particular problem of getting Congo back to his
quarters that they hadnt given the cameraman, the
models, or any of their equipment a second thought.
Ask Mr. Macrae, they suggested. He wheeled
the rack out of here, didnt he? Maybe he knows
about the coat.
But Connie was two jumps ahead of them on that
score. When she went once more into the outdoors
Andy had come back from the telephone and was
assuring Mr. Jones that the special officers on duty
had been notified to check all exits. No visitor or
employee who seemed in the least suspicious would
be allowed through the gates.
Of course the thief could have shinnied up a tree
and dropped over the fence. An agile boy could even
64

have climbed over, Andy admitted. We have kids

who get in free of charge that way all the time.
But wouldnt he be bound to be seen? Connie
asked.
Most likely, Andy admitted. But theres
always an outside chance.
The three models, now, were sitting on the steps
of the Kangaroo House, looking discouraged and a
little disheveled. Gregory Rome was crouched in the
shade of a spreading tree, reloading his camera.
Oh, quit worrying, he called across to them.
The coatll turn up.
But time proved him wrong. An hour passedan
hour during which Connie and Andy Macrae both
roamed through the grounds in search of Henry Colt
while Mr. Jones guarded the remaining furs. The sun
hung like an orange above the Pachyderm House,
threatening to drop out of sight behind the trees at
any minute. Griselda yawned and complained that
she had to get home and dress for a date, while
Donna Jean and Carmen promised Mr. Jones hed
have a fancy bill for overtime; so finally the art
director persuaded Gregory Rome to drive the girls
back to town.
Connie passed the foursome as they rounded a
corner by the bear pen.
No luck? Mr. Rome called.
No luck, Connie replied, a trifle wearily. She
65

wished she could walk out of this particular situation

with as little responsibility as they. To face Mr.
Gerald Fabian with the news that the precious mink
had been stolen was something she couldnt bring
herself to contemplate.
Andy Macrae caught up with her as she turned
back past the grove reserved for pony rides, deciding
it was time to give up and tell Mr. Jones they might
as well break the news to Reid and Renshaw, who in
turn could decide how best to handle the situation
from the angle of the Fabian account. Buck up, he
advised her, with a comforting smile. I can tell by
the way youre walking that youre telling yourself
this is all your fault.
It is, mostly.
Nothing of the sort, Andy said. You did the
only thing a decent, courageous person would do
under the circumstances. You got the children out of
the place before you thought about the coats.
Connie shook her head, but she didnt answer.
After all, Mr. Jones is as culpable as you.
The furs, Connie insisted, were really my
responsibility.
And Henry Colts, Andy insisted. By the way,
do you remember exactly what Henry was wearing?
Well have to give some kind of description to the
police.
Thecity police, you mean?
66

Andy nodded. I gave our special officers a fairly

good idea of his appearance, but I may not have
been accurate about the clothes.
Connie thought for a minute, then said with some
reluctance, He had on a brown and tan houndstooth tweed sports jacket with patches of leather on
the elbows, a tan shirt, a brown sweater, and gray
flannel slacks with a three-cornered tear on the right
knee.
Andy whistled. Gosh, youve got some
memoryor should I say you have a remarkable
gift for accurate observation?
Only when it doesnt count, Connie said
ruefully. Ask me what happened immediately after
Congo walked out of his cage and I draw a blank.
Mr. Jones had deserted his station behind the
Kangaroo House. The keeper told Andrew and
Connie that they would find him at the
administration building, to which he and one of the
officers had taken the fur coats. When they arrived
he was in the directors office, looking rather pale
and pinched, and trying fruitlessly to reach Reid and
Renshaw by telephone.
The lines been busy for ten minutes, he told
Connie. That switchboard operators talking to her
boy friend again!
What are you going to tell them? Connie asked.
What can I tell them, but the facts?
67

Are you going to accuse Henry Colt?

Miss Blair, be reasonable. Henry has already
accused himself. An innocent person doesnt run off,
youll have to admit.
Connies eyes were troubled. But he seemed so
sincere, she murmured, and he said he liked his
job.
Then why didnt he stick to it?
I dont know.
Mr. Jones dialed again. Ah, at last, he said over
his shoulder. Mr. George Renshaw, please. There
was a short wait, then he said, George, this is
Windham Jones. Im afraid I have rather bad news
for you. There was a bit of excitement out here at
the zoo. A gorilla got out of his cage and during the
uproar one of the Fabian coats for which Miss Blair
was responsible disappeared.
For which Miss Blair was responsible . . . It
sounded so accusing. Did he have to say that?
Connie wondered. Couldnt he have put it a little
more gently? But of course he was right.
No, Im afraid its more serious than that, Mr.
Jones was continuing. Now hold your hat,
Georgeit was the mink. The fancy wild mink job
that was the prize of the collection. There was
another pause, then Mr. Jones said, Worth a good
deal more than that, Im afraid.
Connie waited silently, her hands like ice.
68

Do you happen to know the retail price of the

missing coat? asked the art director, turning away
from the phone.
Fifteen thousand dollars, Connie said just
above a whisper. She caught Andy Macraes eye and
bit her lip in consternation. For a day which had
started out so auspiciously it had certainly done an
about-face.
Fifteen grand, Mr. Jones repeated, speaking
into the mouthpiece. Then, after a minute, he said,
O.K., Ill see what I can do. Will you call Fabian,
or shall I?
He slammed the receiver into its cradle with a
heartfelt sigh, and, ignoring Connie, spoke to Andy
Macrae. Mr. Renshaw thinks it might be a good
idea to have a special police guard around the zoo
tonight. Just in case the coat is still on the premises.
Would such a thing be possible, do you think? He
sounded just a little dubious.
I dont see why not, Andy said promptly. Ill
speak to the director when he comes back to the
office. He was called over to the Carnivora House
just about half an hour ago, I understand. One of the
big cats is sick.
Very well. The art director nodded briefly.
Now I suppose the next thing to do is to get the furs
back to the shop. I wonder if I may have permission
to drive my car into the grounds, since I assume that
69

Henry absconded with the keys to the I ruck.

The truck! Did anyone think to check on
whether the trucks still there? Connie asked.
Did you think? Mr. Jones inquired.
No, I didnt, Connie confessed. But Ill go
look now.
Never mind. Ill call the main gate with a
description. It will be quicker and simpler to have
them see if the trucks still there, and besides
Andy looked at Mr. Jones almost sternlyMiss
Blair must be exhausted by now. Shes walked miles
within these grounds today.
The truck was just where Henry and Connie had
left it, so Mr. Jones went to get his car, and together
the three of them filled the back seat with the furs,
leaving the rack in a storeroom at the zoo until a
time when it could be called for conveniently.
Connie insisted on riding along with Mr. Jones and
his valuable cargo because she didnt feel that it
would be fair to let him face the music alone.
Upon arrival at the store they discovered that Mr.
Gerald Fabian was in New York, but that he was
expected home that evening, so that the hour of
reckoning would be postponed. Momentarily, during
their ride downtown, Mr. Jones had been getting
more apprehensive and upset, and, rather than act as
a calming influence, the news that Mr. Fabian was
unavailable made him lash out at Connie in furious
70

rebuke.
You may as well realize, Miss Blair, that this
whole situation is due to your officiousness, he told
her, almost trembling with rage. If you hadnt
insisted on that shot in front of the gorillas cage
none of this would have happened. By now all
thirteen coats would have been back safely in the
shop, the photographs would be finished, and the job
wound up.
Im really just as sorry as can be, Mr. Jones,
Connie said with the most complete sincerity. I do
realize that
But the art director waved a hand to halt her
apology. The damage is done, he said brusquely,
and if I dont miss my guess a head will roll at Reid
and Renshaws. I just want you to understand, Miss
Blair, that I do not intend it to be mine.

71

CHAPTER

Where Is Henry Colt?

Connie couldnt remember when she had been more

dejected. She walked back to the apartment with
dragging feet, feeling helpless and discouraged.
Usually she could think or work her way out of a
situation, but today she had reached an impasse. She
could determine upon nothing constructive to do.
Unconsciously, she hoped that Aunt Bet would be
at home, so that at least she would have a
sympathetic ear for her woes. But a hastily scrawled
note, propped against a candlestick on the mantel,
informed her that her aunt was having dinner out
and going to the Philadelphia Orchestra with friends.
Be good. See you in the morning. Love, B.
Well, that was that. Connie threw her hat on the
love seat, kicked off her alligator pumps, and sank
down in the wing chair by the fireplace, exhausted
and sick at heart.
Uncharacteristically, she sat for a full five
72

minutes, staring straight ahead of her. Then a knock

at the door brought her to her feet. Stepping hastily
into her slippers, she answered it to find the building
superintendent standing in the hall, a large
cardboard box in his arms.
It didnt take the name Fabian, printed in elegant
script across the top, to tell Connie that it was die
muskrat coat. She thanked the superintendent rather
halfheartedly, then carried the box to the bedroom
and stood staring down at it without untying the
cord. I dont even want to see it, she was thinking.
Ill have to return it now. It wouldnt be lair to keep
it under the circumstances.
The telephone rang, sharply at first, then with an
anxious sound. Hello, Connie said in a subdued
tone of voice. If it were only good newsif the coat
had been found!
But it was Mr. Renshaws secretary. Mr. Jones
and Mr. Renshaw would like you to meet them at
Fabians at eight-thirty tomorrow morning, she said
in a businesslike tone.
Very well. Ill be there. Connie hung up and sat
for a moment on the arm of the love seat, wondering
whether they intended to conduct an investigation,
and if so, how far it would get.
She had wandered into the kitchenette, feeling
that she should eat something although she was not
in the least hungry, and had decided to scramble a
73

couple of eggs when the phone rang again. This time

a masculine voice, deep and a trifle uncertain, came
over the wire.
Is this Miss Blair?
Yes, it is.
This is Andy Macrae. I hope you dont think Im
tooimpulsive, but Ive been wondering if youd be
willing to have dinner with me this evening. I
thought you might be feeling rather lowand so
His voice trailed off as though he couldnt quite
explain himself after all.
Connie laughed gently. I rather like impulsive
people, she admitted. A minute ago Id have said
that Id refuse a dinner invitation from the King of
England, but She too hesitated.
But since Im Scotch?
What time? Connie asked, agreement in the
question.
Is half an hour too soon? I have my car.
Half an hour sounds fine. But do you know
where I live? A thought occurred to her. How did
you find my phone number, anyway? Im not
listed.
I called your office. The amateur detective in me
rose to the occasion, Andy confessed. He took her
address. See you soon.
Connie changed to a jersey dress exactly the
yellow of her hair. She looked longingly at the box
74

on l he bed but resisted the temptation to open it and

wear, even for this one evening, the muskrat coat.
Instead, she took last years dark-red tweed reefer
from the closet and pulled on a close-fitting hat. She
looked a trifle less vital than usual, but the
unaccustomed paleness was not unbecoming. It
made her skin seem transparent, like fine French
china, and her eyes looked very large and dark.
Do you like sea food, Connie? May I call you
Connie? Andy asked as they went out to the narrow
street.
Connie nodded in answer to both questions;
though she wasnt very hungry she couldnt admit it
without seeming ungracious.
How about Bookbinders, then? Its seldom
crowded, and we can sit and talk to our hearts
content.
That sounds very nice. She had almost said,
That sounds like fun, but actually nothing could
sound like fun to her tonight.
Andy handed her into the car and walked around
to slide behind the wheel. Wind was whipping
around the corners of the tall office buildings and
apartment houses, and leaves were blowing across
Rittenhouse Square. Winter was definitely on the
way. They drove down Locust Street slowly,
stopping and starting in the dinner-hour traffic, past
the Academy of Music, and on through the business
75

district toward the river, where ferryboats plied

leisurely back and forth. Bookbinders was a very
old restaurant, with live lobsters on display for the
customers selection, Trenton crackers in bowls on
each table, and white-coated waiters who were
courteous but unobtrusive, leaving Connie and
Andrew conveniently alone once they had been
served.
Connie surprised herself by eating an order of
steamed clams with real enjoyment, and though she
had been doubtful of her capacity when Andy
suggested crabmeat au gratin, it looked delicious
when it arrived.
Feeling better? Andy asked her as she reached
for a second roll. His eyes were approving, as
though he had accomplished what he had set out to
do.
Oh, much! Connie replied. This is a hundred
times better than moping in the apartment, alone.
You were ever so thoughtful, Andy, to ask me.
You were ever so nice to come.
Connie knew, as she buttered her roll without
glancing up, that Andy was looking at her
appreciatively. It made her feel warm and attractive,
and she couldnt help wishing that they had met in a
different manner, when things were more relaxed
and normal. He was an extraordinarily nice young
man.
76

A paper boy came in and began to circulate

among the tables. Andy clicked his fingers to attract
the lads attention and handed him a dime in return
for a Philadelphia Bulletin. Thanks, son. Keep the
change.
Connie murmured, I suppose there will be a
story.
You bet. Here it is.
She leaned toward Andy so that she could read
the headlines:
GORILLA FLEES ZOO CAGE,
SNAKE CHASES HIM BACK
Valuable Mink Coat Stolen As
Pandemonium Marks Escape
Of 400-Pound Primate
Andy glanced down the column of type and read
a paragraph aloud.
Police are seeking Henry Colt, 19, truck driver
and stockman for Fabian Furs, whose disappearance
was coincidental with the theft of a natural royal
mink coat valued at $15,000. The coat was being
modeled for an advertising photograph in front of
the gorillas cage, and in the confusion following the
huge beasts walkout it was stolen, apparently by the
missing youth.
77

 Bystanders at the time included three

professional models, Mr. Windham Jones, art
director of Reid and Renshaw, his assistant, Miss
Constance Blair, and Mr. Andrew Macrae, a zoo
employee who assisted keepers in returning the
gorilla to his cage, but not before Congo had created
havoc in the kitchen of the Monkey House.
For fully half an hour Congo defied all efforts
to . . .
We know all that, Andy said. Havent they
any more to say about Henry? He turned to the
page where the story was continued, and in a later
paragraph found a tidbit of information.
Police have questioned the missing truck
drivers mother, Mrs. Hiram Colt of 921 Lantern
Street, who tearfully denied that her son had
returned home following the incident at the zoo. She
had an explanation for his disappearance which shed
no light whatever on the theft of the coat. Henry,
she said, has been terrified of animals ever since he
was caught in a circus fire at the age of six. Some
elephants stampeded, and although Henry escaped
unhurt, he was badly frightened.
Andy shook his head. Maybe he was just
rescuing the mink, not stealing it, he said in a mild
attempt at humor. But in that case why hasnt he
brought it back?
78

Connie leaned her chin on the palm of one hand.

What his mother says makes a certain kind of
sense, she murmured. He acted half scared to
death all day.
Of the animals?
Connie nodded thoughtfully. She was recalling
her conversation with Henry as they rode out to the
zoo together in the Fabian truck. Hed been very
lukewarm about the animals from the very first, she
remembered now. Maybe the police were on the
wrong trail, completely. Maybe hed just capitulated
to a feeling of panic. She frowned.
Andys eyes narrowed. You think, dont you,
that the cops are barking up the wrong tree?
I dont know, Connie admitted.
If only the kid had stayed and faced the music,
Andy sighed.
He did, Connie said, come back. Then she
qualified her remark. At least Im almost certain I
saw him, right after we were all released from the
Kangaroo House.
Where?
In the crowd.
I could ask you another question, Andy said.
Whats that?
Did he seem to be carrying anything?
Connie thought for a minute. I could just see his
head and shoulders, behind a crowd of children. The
79

sun was in my eyes, but I could almost swear his

arms were empty. At least his shoulders werent
sagging or anything, if you know what I mean.
I know just what you mean, Andy said. What
happened next?
I saw Griselda. I expected her to have the coat
and she didnt. I called out to her about itI guess I
told her it was gone.
Now think carefully. Could Henry have heard
you?
I cant be sure, Connie said slowly. Im sorry,
but I really dont know, Andy. There was such a
mob.
There was silence for a moment between them.
Then Andy said, I have a hunch, a very small
hunch, but still its worth playing. Want to take a
ride?
Connie sipped the last of her coffee. To Lantern
Street, by any chance?
Andy looked genuinely surprised. How did you
guess?
Im psychic, Connie retorted with a grin.
Every day or just on alternate Wednesdays?
I cant answer that. It might tend to incriminate
me.
Youre not kidding, Andy said. Come on, lets
go.
The bright lights of central Philadelphia were just
80

a glow behind them as they drove southward past

dark row houses crouching on either side of narrow,
littered streets. Apparently tomorrow was trash day,
and cats skulked among ash cans and overflowing
baskets which lined the curbs on either side. Connie
shivered a little, thinking that it was a dismal,
squalid neighborhood in which to spend ones
childhood. Im glad I was raised in the country,
she told Andy. I love the city, but not this part of
it.
Suppose, however, said Andy, that you were
Henry Colt. You were frightened out of your rather
feeble wits and, to boot, you had run out on your
job. On top of that, you were suspected of a theft so
enormous you could scarcely conceive of the
amount of money involved. What would you do?
Id head for home, Connie replied promptly.
And thats what you think Henry did. But what
about his mothers denial?
Her tearful denial, Andy said, emphasizing the
adjective. Thereby hangs a possible clue.
The house where the Colts lived was even less
prepossessing than its immediate neighbors. In a
second-floor window half a pane was gone, the hole
filled with stuffed newspapers in a slipshod way.
Whats our approach? Connie asked.
Were friends of Henrys. We are, arent we?
We think hes being unjustly accused.
81

We hope, Connie corrected her escort. She had

been involved, previous to today, in too many
mysteries to make her willing to take anyone on
faith.
Very well, you literalist. Andy helped her out
of the car with a grin. You have a way about you,
so suppose you do the talking. Besides which, a
woman will often trust another woman sooner than
she will a man.
Before Connie could protest, Andy had yanked
the old-fashioned bellpull and a faint b-ring had
sounded in the depths of the house. For several
seconds there was no answer. Then the door opened
a mere crack and a woman with wispy hair pulled
back from a work-worn face looked out
suspiciously. What dyou want? she asked. If
youre reporters
Oh, were not, Mrs. Colt, Connie said quickly.
Im Connie Blair, a friend of Henrys, and this is
Mr. Andrew Macrae, from the zoo.
The door began to shut. Im not gonna talk to no
more people. The womans harsh voice cracked
pathetically. I said all Im gonna say.
I know. Connie sounded so genuinely
sympathetic that Mrs. Colt waited with the door still
slightly open. You must have been through a lot.
We just wanted to tell you that were sorryand if
theres anything we can do
82

You can tell em down at Fabians my boys no

thief, Mrs. Colt said, wavering between
belligerence and fresh tears. Jus because he run off
dont prove a thing, you can tell em. He was scared,
thats all, like I said.
I know, Connie said again, nodding agreement.
I really believe you, Mrs. Colt, and so does Mr.
Macrae. But if only Henry had come backif only
hed just come back and explaineddont you see?
I see all right. I see how theyd like to pin a
crime on himon my boy who never took so much
as a banana from a hucksters stand in his whole
life.
Look, Mrs. Colt, Connie pleaded. Youve got
it all wrong. Henrys only chance is to give himself
up. Tell them the truth. Otherwise, the longer he
stays in hiding the more theyre going to suspect
him. Dont you see?
The woman looked confused and doubtful.
Shes right, Mrs. Colt, Andy said gently.
Hmph.
If I could only see him and talk to him. I like
Henry, Mrs. Colt. Id like to help him, but as things
are
What do you think he must do? With this
question the mother practically admitted that she
knew the sons whereabouts, and Connie drew a
breath of relief. At last they were getting
83

somewheresomewhere that the police had not

been able to get.
I think he should report back to work tomorrow
morning, just as usual, and admit he ran off because
he was frightened. There will be an investigation. It
wont be easyfor any of us. But Ill be there and
Ill do my best to get a square deal for him.
Honestly, Mrs. Colt, she insisted, her voice filled
with persuasion, its the only way!

84

CHAPTER

The Investigation

Cross your fingers, whispered Connie to Andy as

they walked back across the uneven brick pavement
to the car.
And cross your heart, Andy returned as he
opened the door for her. All we can do now is wait
until tomorrow morning and see what gives.
Ill wager Henry shows up.
Thats a bet I wont take. Im on your side,
remember?
Theyll make it tough for him, Connie sighed.
I know, but as you told the boys mother, its
best that way. Otherwise, he practically brands
himself a criminal.
But if we believe what weve been saying, who
could have stolen the coat? Connie asked, half to
herself, half to Andy.
Now there youre posing a very large question.
85

I know, Connie admitted. There were so many

people on the scene that theres no way of narrowing
down the list of suspects, the way they do in
detective stories.
Andy chuckled. Oh, I dont know. There werent
so many people who knew the value of that
particular coat. The keepers, for instance, didnt, nor
did the visitors outside your particular group.
Connie looked startled. All three of the models
knew, she mused. And Gregory Rome, and Mr.
Jones, andHenry.
And you and I, for that matter, added Andy.
Yes, thats true. A chill traced its way down
Connies spine. Perhaps she had misled Mrs. Colt,
after all. Of the number named there was no doubt
that Henry seemed the most likely suspect. Then she
remembered the covetous expression in Griseldas
eyes when she had looked at the mink earlier in the
day. Griselda might conceivably have seized the
opportunity to carry the coat off. Connie tried hard
to remember the exact moment at which the gorilla
had made his escape. It seemed to her that Henry
had been just about to slip the coat around the
models shoulders.
And Griselda was the one person in their group
who had been, ostensibly, in the Antelope House
during the half hour when the gorilla was at large.
Both Donna Jean and Carmen had been closeted, for
86

the major part of that time, with Connie.

For the major part of the time. But there were
minutes when Connie, in her anxiety for the
children, could not account for the whereabouts of
anyone, including Andrew Macrae himself. Yet
where, in the immediate environs of the Monkey
House, could the coat have been secreted? And if
she followed this line of thought to its logical
conclusion the thief must have hidden it somewhere
very quickly. Very quickly indeed!
It seemed to Connie that her mind was going
around in ever-broadening circles, which eventually
disappeared entirely, like the circles formed when a
pebble is dropped into a pool. She said good night to
Andy and thanked him politely for a delicious
dinner, but she walked upstairs and prepared for bed
in a bewildered daze, then dreamed that she was
caught in a gigantic fish net, from which there was
no conceivable escape.
There were dark circles under Connies eyes,
making them look large and compassionate, when
she arrived at Fabians the next morning. The shop
was not yet open for business and Miss Marie let her
in, looking almost as concerned as Connie felt.
You know, the actress decided to buy that
mink, she whispered as she showed Connie to a
flight of stairs leading to the upstairs workrooms and
to Mr. Fabians office. She was to have picked it up
87

early next week. Isnt that a blow?

It was indeed, because Connie could well
understand that a fifteen-thousand-dollar sale was
not made, even by Gerald Fabian, very often during
a year. She felt more than ever responsible and con
trite. If there were only something she could do to
redeem herself!
Mr. Jones, looking unhappy and harassed, had
already arrived, and was in conversation with Mr.
Fabian and Mr. George Renshaw, each of whom
looked perfectly groomed, as usual, but unnaturally
serious.
Mr. Fabian, talking with a stranger who was
apparently a detective, saw Connie first. Ah, Miss
Blair.
Good morning, Connie said, then immediately
asked herself, Whats good about it?
This is Mr. Baker, who will conduct the
investigation, Mr. Fabian said.
Connie nodded and murmured a subdued
greeting, then turned toward Mr. Renshaw.
Hello, Connie, George Renshaw said, without
smiling. Sit over here. Were expecting Mr. Rome
and the three girls who were modeling yesterday.
There was no sign of Henry, nor did anyone mention
him.
Connie sat down on the chair indicated, feeling
taut and uncomfortable. She would have appreciated
88

an opportunity to tell Mr. Fabian how deeply sorry

she was about the loss of the coat, but the three men
ignored her. She knew, of course, that all of
Fabians valuable furs were insured, but fifteen
thousand dollars in cash couldnt possibly pay for
the publicity value the mink would have if worn by
a famous actress. The sale of the coat put a potential
value on it much higher than could ever be
recovered, even though the insurance company
made good the monetary loss.
After about five minutes Griselda and Carmen
walked in, followed shortly by Donna Jean. Gregory
Rome, looking disheveled and sleepy eyed, hurried
in on her heels, along with one of the special officers
who had been on duty at the zoo.
Mr. Jones introduced this last arrival. Mr.
Hobson is here to answer any questions we may
have concerning operations at the Zoological
Gardens following the disappearance of the coat,
he explained with precise formality. Then Connie
happened to glance toward the door and gave a gasp
of surprise. There, looking as though he had slept in
his clothes, stood Henry Colt.
He was accompanied, Connie saw to her dismay,
by a Philadelphia policeman. This fact seemed
unremarkable to either Mr. Renshaw, Mr. Jones, or
Mr. Fabian, who acted as though they had been
expecting the arrival of the pair. She learned, in the
89

next few minutes, that the young truck driver had

been picked up leaving his own house at seventhirty that morning, and that he protested that he had
been bound for the shop at that time.
Of all the people in the room, Connie felt that she
alone believed that this statement was true. She was
convinced that her meeting with Henrys mother the
night before had resulted in just this move, and she
was therefore especially sorry that he hadnt been
allowed to come back and face the music unattended
by the law.
To say that, in the gray light of early morning,
Henry looked wretched was to understate the case.
He looked acutely miserable, but he also,
indefinably, looked guilty. There was a shiftiness to
his glance, a nervous truculence in the way he
twisted his cap that made the group mistrust him.
Connie was conscious that she alone tried to excuse
his conduct on the basis of wariness and fear.
It was Detective Baker who initiated proceedings.
Mr. Renshaw came over and took the chair next to
Connies, and because she knew him so well she
could see that, under his suave manner, he was very
much upset.
Mr. Baker spread a map of the zoo out on the
desk and questioned each of the persons who had
been on the scene in turn, tactfully starting at one
side of the semicircle of chairs and working toward
90

the other, so that no discrimination would be

implied.
Connie happened to be first. Will you describe,
exactly as you remember it, the happenings
immediately following the gorillas escape? he
asked.
Talking slowly, and a trifle jerkily, Connie tried
to make her reply as accurate as possible. Im
afraid I was so concerned with getting the crowd of
school children out the front door that I cant
remember seeing the mink coat at all, she
confessed when she had finished.
Mr. Jones?
I was under the impression that either Miss Blair
or Henry Colt had taken charge of the coats. There
was the camera equipment to rescue. Then Miss
Wood got a trifle hysterical. I was caught in a surge
of people trying to leave by the rear door, and
eventually I was shunted off to the Carnivora House,
where I remainedperforceuntil the all clear.
Miss Wood was with you?
No. Miss Wood must have been taken to another
house. Mr. Jones glanced toward Griselda.
I dont remember seeing Mr. Jones at all, until
later. I got sent to the Antelope House. The
willowy young woman wrinkled her nose
descriptively, and Connie stifled a smile.
The detective nodded shortly. Very well. Now,
91

Miss Lovelace?
Donna Jean and I were with ConnieMiss
Blair, I mean. I got mixed up with the gang of kids,
and, frankly, I didnt look back once. The gorilla
could have eaten the coat for all I know.
Did you go out of the building before Miss Blair
or after her? Mr. Baker asked.
I wouldnt know for sure, but Id say before.
Anyway, she didnt turn up until later, in the
Kangaroo House, I mean.
Where were you? the detective asked Connie.
With Mr. Macrae, most of the time, she replied
promptly. After the youngsters were taken care of,
I remembered the coats.
After the horse was stolen murmured Mr.
Jones as though to himself, but Connie heard the
criticism and flushed hotly.
Neither the photographer nor Donna Jean John
son had anything new or constructive to contribute
They merely furnished an alibi for each other and a
partial one for Connie Blair. Not one of the group
questioned seemed to remember what Henry Colts
actions had been immediately after Congos escape,
and Henry himself had a rather garbled explanation.
I chucked the coat at the first person handy and
got the heck out, he said rather truculently.
Who was that person? Mr. Baker asked.
I cant remember.
92

Oh, come now. Try to think back.

Henry looked around the group a little wildly. It
could of been Miss Blair or it could of been one of
the keepers or even Mr. Jones. I just dont know.
Certainly you can remember if it was a man or a
woman?
But the driver shook his head. I wasnt paying
no mind, I guess.
Abandoning this line of approach, Mr. Baker
consulted his map and tried another. By which door
did you leave the Monkey House, front or rear?
Henry looked puzzled. Gosh, I cant say. I just
lit out for the nearest exit. What does it matter,
anyway?
What did you do once you were outside?
I beat it.
Where did you go?
Back toward the entrance gate, I thought, but I
musta got turned around, because I ended up in
some sort of picnic grove.
The detective sighed. What did you do there?
He was certainly giving the fellow every chance.
First I climbed a tree, Henry confessed, looking
down at his cap. Then I remembered monkeys lived
in trees, so I cut out for the mens rest room, which
happened to be the nearest building handy. I shut the
door and leaned against it until I heard em call out
things were under control.
93

Was there anyone else therea keeper or

guard?
Nope. Just me.
Thats too bad. It would have been convenient if
someone else had seen you.
Huh? Henry looked nonplused at such a
remark, and Connie felt sorry for him.
I saw him, Mr. Baker, she said suddenly. After
the scare was over, he started to come back. Didnt
you, Henry? She looked at the lad for confirmation,
appealing to him with her eyes.
But Henry, for unfathomable reasons of his own,
declined to admit to this foible. Naw, he muttered.
I kept right on goin the way I was headed, out the
south entrance to Mantua Avenue. I figgered there
was other jobs in the world that didnt mean tanglin
with no gorillas, if youd like to know.
In other words, Mr. Fabian cut in coldly, you
abandoned your responsibility?
You can call it that. I forgot about the keys to
the truck until later but I was goin to return em this
morning. He looked toward Mr. Fabian.
You seem to have forgotten several things,
mentioned Mr. Jones. Among them the fact that
Frank Hobson, here, saw you running in the
direction of the picnic grove with the mink coat
thrown over your arm.
Henry leapt to his feet, pale and shaken. His
94

Adams apple bobbed in alarm. He never!

But Mr. Hobson was nodding his head. Thats
the man all right.
O.K., Henry, Mr. Fabian rapped out. Where
have you hidden it?
You! Henry made a lunge toward Hobson,
but the policeman at his side pulled him back.
Better take him along back to the station house,
Gerald Fabian said sorrowfully. Give me a call
when hes ready to talk.

95

CHAPTER

Return to the Zoo

Connie approached Mr. Fabian diffidently. She had

waited until she could speak to him a moment alone,
and as George Renshaw and the art director moved
together toward the door she found her opportunity.
II just want to tell you how terribly sorry I
amabout everything, she began, at rather a loss
to express herself. Then she hurried on: And, Mr.
Fabian, Id like to return the muskrat coat. After
what has happened, I dont think I should accept
such a favor.
The furrier looked down at her as though he were
seeing Connie for the first time that morning.
Forget it, child, he said. You wear the coat and
enjoy it. Its just a drop in the bucket, after all.
Connie couldnt thank him adequately, because
Mr. Renshaw turned back just then to ask Mr.
Fabian a final question. It was too bad that the
96

natural elation she felt in realizing that the coat was

really to be hers should be drowned by a surge of
conscience. She felt that, from Fabians standpoint,
she had failed in a time of emergency. An inward
monitor made her want to redeem herself, made her
long for the satisfaction of being able to search out
the culprit and deliver the precious mink back into
the furriers hands.
She started to walk uptown toward the office
alone, passing the bright shops without even
glancing at the wares in their windows. Even now,
although Henry Colts attitude this morning had
been far from upstanding, she couldnt believe that
the boy who had described with such pride the
Babaco alarm system on his truck could have turned
thief quite so spontaneously. Of course Hobsons
testimony confused the issue still further, but
suppose the officer were mistakenor suppose he
had been bribed?
Connie wasnt yet ready to abandon her original
line of reasoning. She had promised to stand by
Henry, and what had she done? Impulsively, she
stepped into a drugstore and called Andy Macrae.
Then she phoned the office, saying she would be out
for the rest of the morning, and possibly for the
entire day. She didnt give the switchboard operator
any explanation except this: Ill be at the zoo if you
should want to reach me. Tell Mr. Renshaw Im just
97

playing a hunch.
Too impatient to wait for a trolley car, Connie
hailed a cab, and arrived at the north entrance before
the zoo was yet open to the public. Andy met her at
the gate and she told him quickly that Henry Colt
had been taken into custody. The news hadnt yet
reached the zoo director, so the guard established the
previous day was being continued. All visitors and
employees leaving the grounds would have to pass a
rigid inspection until the announcement of Henrys
guilt became official, and this suited Connie
perfectly.
I have a feeling the mink coat is still right here
in the zoo, she insisted. I just cant see how it
could have been spirited out of the grounds in the
short time that elapsed between the gorillas escape
and the time the guard was set up.
Ive been thinking the same thing, Andy
admitted. Though theres one possibility. It could
have been smuggled through the gates in a baby
carriage.
But that would presuppose an accomplice,
Connie said thoughtfully. And this was a spur-ofthe-moment theft.
Right you are, Andy admitted. Well, that
relieves my mind on that score.
Why werent you down at Fabians this
morning? Connie wanted to know, her quick mind
98

darting from one facet of the problem to another.

I wasnt invited, Andy said promptly. I
thought it rather strange myself, especially since
Hobson was asked to be present. Did he have
anything to contribute, by the way?
Did he! His evidence was the thing that sent
Henry to jail. He said hed seen a man running
toward the picnic grove with a fur coat over his arm
right after the emergency warning was issued.
Andy whistled. Wonder why he didnt mention
that before?
Connie shook her head. Do you think it could be
a frame-up?
I dont know. I plain unvarnished dont know.
Andy wriggled his nose like a rabbit. But methinks
something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Connie nodded in agreement. Methinks too.
Let me ask the boss to maintain the guard this
one more day, Andy proposed. Then you and I can
really case the joint, to put it colloquially. If the coat
is on the premises, well find it by nightfall or Ill
know the reason why.
Andy left Connie in the downstairs hall of
Solitude, the historic building erected in 1785 by a
grandson of William Penn, and went up to the
administrative offices. After about ten minutes he
returned, grinning and signaling success.
Even if the Philadelphia police call off their
99

guard, well have all exits checked by the eight

special officers on duty inside the grounds, he told
Connie when they were once again outside. Until
closing timeno later, he added. That was the
best I could do.
Lets get to work, Connie said promptly.
There are quite a few acres involved, Andy
replied. Where would you like to start?
For a moment Connie seemed to be baffled. Then
she smiled. How did the idiot find the horse? she
asked whimsically.
Thats easy. He went where he thought the horse
would go.
So lets pretend one or the other of us stole the
coat. Ill take the womans angle, you the mans.
What would you do with it, Andy, if you wanted to
hide it in a hurry?
Andy scratched his head, nonplused. He
considered for several seconds, then said, There
isnt much cover around the Monkey House. I might
dump it into a trash can and cover it with a
newspaper, if I had a newspaper.
Or if someone else had left a newspaper handy.
Andy, thats a bright idea. Have the trash cans been
checked?
Whats today, Thursday? Oh, my gosh, trash
was collected last night.
Well, in that case the mink is on the city dump
100

by now, Connie said with a sigh.

Or on the back of some trashmans surprised
wife.
The picture conjured up by this alternative made
Connie grin, but she wrote Find out if trash cans
were searched on a scratch pad she pulled out of
her pocketbook.
All right, Andy said, warming to the game.
Its your turn.
Your baby carriage theory defeats me, Connie
admitted. I cant think of anything half so
ingenious.
Then lets go back to the scene of the crime and
start from there, Andy proposed.
After yesterdays crowds the grounds were
almost deserted this morning, and the animals
seemed to be enjoying the absence of humans. A
polar bear on Connies left took a running dive and
flopped into the water of his bathing pool with a
great splash, then rolled over and over happily,
showering his companions.
Brr, Connie said, buttoning her coat at the
throat against the rising wind. That water looks icy!
He can have it.
They passed a lake on which black and white
swans and brilliantly colored ducks glided, then
found themselves once more at the door of the
Monkey House. Joe Ryan was back on duty, and he
101

greeted both Connie and Andy with a welcoming

smile. Hear I missed a little excitement yesterday.
You had excitement enough, Andy told him.
Hows your arm?
Fine and dandy. It was nothing but a scratch.
Congo was slumped against the bars of his cage,
regarding them balefully. When that fellow gives
you a scratch its spelled with a capital S, the
publicity director said.
Any line on the mink yet? Joe wanted to know.
I read the papers last night. Mighty queer thing lo
have had happen.
Henry Colt, the young truck driver, has been
arrested, Connie told him.
Yeh? Well, now. Mighty sorry to hear that. He
seemed like a decent enough kid.
Mr. Ryan, do you know Frank Hobson, one of
the special officers, at all well? Connie asked
without further comment.
I know him some, Joe replied. Why?
Id just like to know what you think of him. We
wont quote you, but what sort of a chap is he?
Likable? Smart?
Smart, maybe, but not too sociable. Always has
a chip on his shoulder. Right now he dont like the
pay, Joe admitted with a chuckle that included
Andy Macrae.
Know anything about his private life?
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Not much. Hes single, and he bets on the

horses, not too successfully I guess, because he
generally seems to be in debt. Tried to borrow
money from me once, but I wasnt shelling out.
Since then we aint so friendly, quite.
Thank you, Mr. Ryan, said Connie. Just one
more question. After Congos walkout, do you
remember seeing the mink coat at all?
Joe shook his head vigorously. But, then, I
wasnt lookin, he replied.
Its amazing, yet perfectly credible, mused
Andy Macrae as they walked on through the
Monkey House, that nobody was looking. Fright
does strange things to people.
Connie agreed. Even to you and me.
Lets go on with our how-did-the-idiot routine,
she proposed as they stood together on the steps.
Laugh lines crinkled the corners of Andys eyes.
Its still your turn.
Very well, Ill pretend Im Griselda. Suppose
Griselda had the coat when she was locked in the
Antelope House? If I were Griselda Id have worn
the coat as though I owned it, until an opportunity
came to put it where it wouldnt be found.
Andy frowned. There are so darned few places
around here where it wouldnt be found. But,
anyway, off to the Antelope House.
They snooped and pried. They questioned the
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keepers and combed the kitchen. They even

jocularly approached the giraffe in his outside pen at
the side of the house and asked if hed seen anything
suspicious. But though he craned his long neck at
them he was naturally uncommunicative.
I give up, Andy said.
Oh, not yet. Connie was more thorough. She
insisted on going through the Carnivora House and
the Pachyderm House next to it, from the side door
of which she spied the entrance to the service
buildings cobblestoned courtyard.
There was a No Admittance sign across a halfshut gate. Whats in there? Connie asked.
The storerooms, the central kitchen, the
refrigerator room. Nothing exciting.
May we take a look?
Of course. Andy led her across the cobbled
courtyard to a closed door. You arent squeamish?
he asked before he opened it.
Not very, Connie replied questioningly.
I mean can you stand the sight of horse meat in
large quantity?
Connie laughed, relieved. Oh, yes. Im a country
girl, remember?
They went into a room bordered with long
counters on which meat was being cut up. This is
where they make the mash, Andy explained,
showing Connie flat pans of brown foodstuff which
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reminded her for all the world of the heavy mud pies
she and her twin sister had made as children. Burlap
bags full of meal stood stacked in the corners, and
crates of celery, lettuce, oranges, and apples were
awaiting delivery to the various animal houses.
We have a truck that tours around with
provisions, delivering a days supply, he explained.
This is the refrigerator room over here. Want to
take a look?
Great sides of horse meat hung from hooks in the
ceiling. Ill skip this, Connie said ruefully. I
dont think Griselda would have ventured in here.
Because they were determined to be careful, they
inspected the adjacent offices and then went on to
the laboratory next door. Although they took every
opportunity to question zoo employees, not one clue
was uncovered. It was a discouraging morning for
Connie. She felt that somewhere they must have
overlooked something. But what?
It was momentarily heartening to discover that
the police had checked the contents of the trash cans
before they had been emptied the night before. At
least the mink hadnt chosen this way to make its
exit from the grounds. On the other hand, the
number of possible hiding places was narrowed
down considerably. A trash can would have been so
easy, and so plausible.
After lunch they tramped past the paddocks of
105

deer on the eastern side of the zoo to Monkey Island

and the Model Barn, which yielded nothing of
interest to throw any light on the theft. They glanced
in at the wolves and foxes, who prowled along the
fence and gazed back at them with treacherous
yellow eyes. Connie shivered. Henry would have
steered clear of this crew.
Its amazing to realize that wolves, coyotes,
jackals, and foxes are all one big family along with
the domestic dog, isnt it? Andy mused. Imagine
that being brother to a dachshund! He had a knack
for dispensing miscellaneous information which
Connie found intriguing, even at a time when her
mind was occupied with more serious things. A
moment later he decided, Ill be Henry now. This is
the picnic grove in which he claims to have taken
shelter. Lets suppose he brought the coat with him,
instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt.
All right, Connie agreed, ready to be open
minded. But where could he have left it here?
Lets try the refreshment stand over yonder. Its
closed this time of year but there might be a broken
window or something. There might even be a way of
getting under the porch.
But the deserted stand seemed tight as a drum,
although they circled it twice and prodded and
pulled at anything which might be movable. Using a
passkey, Andy even opened the door and went
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inside, but the dust on the floor was undisturbed by

any footprints. Obviously neither the thief nor
anyone else had come in here for weeks.
Finally even Connies ingenuity failed. She could
think of no more possible hiding places, and she and
Andy wandered dispiritedly back to the
administration building, to tell the director that their
private detective work had come to nothing at all.
He was regretful but realistic. Im afraid youll
find the young truck driver is your culprit, he told
them. Give him a day or two to cool his heels and
hell probably confess. Its my opinion he got out of
the grounds with the coat before the guard was put
on, but of course you never know.
Connie was rather subdued as Andy drove her
back to town. Is there any stone you feel youve
left unturned? he asked. If so, Im at your
command.
Do you really mean that?
Of course.
Then, Andy she put a hand on his arm and
looked at him in a way that would have melted a
stronger manlets try to see Henry.

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CHAPTER 9

Search for a Clue

Andy drove for a minute or two without replying.

We dont even know at what station house Henry is
being held, he said finally. Or whether visitors are
allowed.
Couldnt we find out? Couldnt we at least try to
see him?
A police station isnt a very savory place to take
a young girl, Andy demurred. Why are you so
anxious, Connie? What do you hope to gain?
I dont really know, Connie admitted. I just
have a feeling Id like to hear Henrys side of the
story againwhen he isnt surrounded by
unfriendly or suspicious people. She spoke very
slowly and thoughtfully, almost as though she were
talking to herself.
Andy frowned at the parkway stretching out
ahead of the car, but finally he acquiesced. All
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right. Ill make a couple of telephone calls and see

what I can find out. He turned into a crosstown
street and pulled up at the nearest drugstore. Be
good. Ill be right back.
Connie waited impatiently in the dusk. It was just
five oclock and hordes of office workers were
hurrying toward trains or trolleys or buses, heads
down against a biting wind which had sprung up
from the northwest. Lights winked behind the glass
windows of shops and motorists vied with taxi
drivers, jockeying for position in the heavy traffic,
while policemen whistled and signaled at crowded
intersections, trying to speed up the exodus from
town. An hour from now Philadelphia would again
seem leisurely, but right at this instant it was as busy
as Connies brain.
There must, she was thinking, be something
weve overlooked, some clue weve utterly skipped.
Because she couldnt believe that the zoo director
could be right. She couldnt believe that Henry
could have spirited the coat out of the grounds
before the guard was ordered. Hadnt she seen him
herself, peering over the heads of school children?
Oh, what a muddle it all was!
She twisted on the seat and tried to think
rationally, step by step, back over the way they had
come. Only one thing was clear, only one point
certain. The theft of the coat was a crime of impulse.
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It couldnt have been premeditated, because nobody

present could possibly have predicted the gorillas
escape.
Unlessand this seemed supremely unlikely
Joe Ryan had purposely left the cage door unlocked
so that all the gorilla had to do was lift the latch.
This would assume that Joe was working with an
accomplice. Suddenly there was another point
Connie wanted to clear up. Could Joe Ryan and
Griselda, by any faint chance, have been acquainted
before the trip to the zoo?
She diagramed this line of reasoning for Andys
benefit when he came back to the car with the news
that he had learned the location of the station house
at which Henry could be found, but that he had no
assurance they would be allowed to talk with him.
He listened patiently, but when she had finished
he shook his head. Its a bright idea, but it wont
float, he told her with a grin. I had quite a talk
with Griselda at one point during the morning, and
she mentioned she had just moved here from New
Jersey a few weeks ago. If that isnt enough, I can
tell you Joes reaction when he first spotted her as
we all trooped into the Monkey House. Wow! he
said in an aside to me. Shes some looker. Who is
she, anyway?
Connie sighed. You win, she agreed. That is
not the remark of a man who knows a girl well
110

enough to plot a theft with her.

On to the police station, then?
Connie nodded. If youre game.
Game? Andy sounded incensed. Andrew
Macrae of the Kilmarnock Macraes game? Call us
frugal if you like but never call us fearsome!
Connie laughed at him, as he had known she
would. Andy, youre wonderful! she said. I
honestly think, when you let yourself go, you rather
enjoy playing detective.
I enjoy squiring you around, Andy hedged.
Even to police stations? Connie teased him.
Well, you have to draw the line somewhere.
This is my absolutely final request, Connie
promised. After this, Ill never ask you to do me
another favor. I know Ive taken up a terrific amount
of your time.
My time, insisted Andy, looking slightly
aggrieved, is what I wish youd take up more of.
For a publicity man, Connie murmured, that is
a beautiful sentence.
A beautiful sentence for a beautiful girl.
Ah! Now were really getting corny. Hadnt we
better call a truce and start over?
You bet! Andy agreed. Lets start over at
dinnertime last night. Will you do me the honor,
Miss Blair, of dining with me again?
Connie thanked him but shook her head firmly. I
111

really have to get home. Unless, she added,

qualifying her refusal belatedly, something
interesting should develop in our interview with
Henry. Then
Then Ill give you a tip, Andy interrupted. Be
prepared to charm the sergeant on the desk. Because
he is omnipotent, in this particular instance. It is he
who will decide whether or not we shall be allowed
to see the prisoner, my pet.
Goodness! Connie pulled out her lipstick and a
compact. She pushed at her hair and adjusted her hat
while Andy started and stopped with the traffic,
glancing at her from time to time in amusement.
Do I look all right? she asked finally.
Ravishing, he replied. If youll do this for a
police sergeant, what chance does the poor guy
have?
He abandoned his teasing a few minutes later to
jockey the car into a tight parking space between a
station wagon and a light truck. Connie looked
across the street at the stained marble facade of the
police station in some trepidation. It was a
forbidding building, time scarred and uninviting,
with big empty windows and a harsh light beating
down on the uneven steps.
Ready?
Connie nodded, and slipped out of the car.
Andy took her arm and led her across the narrow
112

street. Together they started up the steps, at the top

of which lounged a burly cop, metal gleaming on his
uniform and the headlights of passing cars picking
out his glistening night stick. He just stood there,
looking at Connie as though he were seeing another
strange thing in a world of strange things, a pretty,
well-bred young girl coming into a police station.
He didnt say anything, just watched Andy hold the
door and watched Connie walk through; then he
shook his head and looked back toward the street.
In this precinct the police station was not kept
very clean. Connie found herself in a big unswept
room occupied by only one man, who sat at a high
corner desk in his shirt sleeves, while the coat of his
uniform hung with his hat on a wall peg. He didnt
even bother to look up until Andy spoke.
Are you the sergeant on duty here?
Yep. The policemans eyes widened slightly as
they rested on Connie, but he didnt add any
courtesy to the monosyllable.
You have a boy here, I believe, Henry Colt. Hes
to come up before the magistrate tomorrow
morning. Wed like to talk with him a few minutes,
if we may.
Whats he booked on? The sergeant, with
another curious glance at Connie, started to riffle
through some papers.
Theft, I think.
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Connie waited nervously, grateful for Andys

calm, competent presence. She hadnt expected to
feel quite so ill at ease.
Yep, the sergeant said again, then stared at both
of them in frank curiosity. You relatives?
No, Connie spoke up, but were friends. If we
could just see him for a little while . . . Her eyes
were dark and pleading.
The policeman scratched the back of his head,
apparently trying to make up his mind. Cant see as
it would do any harm. Ten minutes. He looked at
Andy.
Thank you, Connie murmured, while Andy
nodded in agreement. Thanks. We appreciate this.
The sergeant called a guard, and Connie and
Andy followed him along a dimly lighted corridor
between facing cells. It was, as Andy had warned,
an unsavory place to visit. Connie kept her eyes
straight ahead, avoiding the sight of the creatures
behind doors of steel bars, until the guard stopped at
one of the pens and said, Brother, you got
company.
Henry Colt was sitting on a bunk, his head in his
hands. He looked up apathetically, then recognized
Connie and got to his feet. There was an air of
truculence in the way he walked over to the door
and faced her through the bars, and his reply to her
anxious, Hello, Henry, confirmed this impression.
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What dyou want?

Connie took a deep breath and plunged. I wanted
to talk to you, Henry, to tell you how sorry I was
this morning. . . .
Yeh? Henrys eyes shifted to Andy, then came
back to Connie again.
She didnt blame him for being resentful, for
looking at her as though she had sold him short, but
Connie wanted to explain, if she could. I promised
your mother, she said, looking directly into his
eyes, that Id see you got a square deal, if I possibly
could. Then, after Mr. Hobsons evidence, there was
nothing I could do. Dont you see?
Yeh, I see all right, Henry muttered. I was
framed.
What do you mean?
Hobson was bought. He never saw me. Henry
suddenly gripped the bars of the door until his
knuckles were white. You know that, he told
Connie. You saw me yourself.
Connie nodded. I know, but, Henry, the only
way we can clear you now is to find the real culprit.
Mr. Macrae and I have been out at the zoo all day,
raking the place with a fine-tooth comb, because
she pronounced the next words slowlyI think the
mink coats still there.
Why dyou think that? Interest, mounting
slowly but steadily, replaced the truculence in
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Henrys expression.
Because the guard was put on too quickly for
anyone to have got it clear away.
Henry turned to Andy. You think that too?
Andy was honest. I dont know.
Time was fleeting, so Connie hurried on: The
reason I came here, she told the boy, was to ask
you to think back, just once more, to the minutes
just following the gorillas escape. I know you were
terrified. So was everyoneexcept, she added
ruefully, the thief. But I keep feeling there is
something weve overlooked, some clue that could
lead us to the hiding place before the real criminal
has time to come back and get his prize. And,
Henry, we havent much time. The guard was called
off, you know, after you were identified by Mr.
Hobson.
Henry nodded slowly. He seemed to be thinking
with an effort. Nervously, he ran a hand through his
stringy hair. The trouble is, he confessed, none of
its very clear. I remember seeing the gorilla lift the
latch on the cage and I remember standing stock-still
for a second, just from shock, then tossing the coat
to somebody or other and heading for the door.
You still cant think who you might have tossed
it to?
Nope. It didnt matterthen.
Connie sighed. Go on. What next?
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Right outside the door I stumbled over

somethinga bag of grain, I think it was. Some
fellows were unloading a truck. I almost fell flat on
my face and that scared me double, because I had a
feeling that big ape was after me. Boy, did I ever
scram!
Connie looked puzzled, and Andy Macrae said,
Yes, I remember the delivery truck. They were
making their regular rounds.
I didnt see it, Connie mentioned. Nobody said
anything about it before.
Andy shrugged. Does it matter? He turned back
to Henry. Go on with your story. What happened
next?
I made for the gate but ended up in some picnic
grove, like I said. Then, when I got hold of myself, I
started to come back, but Miss Blair called out to
that tall model the coat was gone, so I beat it for
good.
It all ties in, Connie murmured. It still makes
sense.
It dont make sense to the coppers, Henry said
gloomily. And it aint gonna make sense to the
judge tomorrow morning, unless I miss my guess.
Im headed up the river, barrin a miracle. He
shook his head, and his Adams apple moved
grotesquely. Jus when I was gettin along so
good.
117

Steps were plodding along the corridor. Times

up, there, called out the guard.
Just a minute! Connie begged, and turned back
to the young man behind the bars. I cant promise a
miracle, she told him sorrowfully, but dont give
up hope quite yet. Weve still got all night and part
of tomorrow morning. You just hold on and keep
your chin up. Ill do everything I can.
Everything I can, everything I can. The words
sounded as hollow as the footfalls of the guard on
the cement floor as he led them back along the dim
hallway to the soot-stained bareness of the big front
room.
The sergeant was leaning back, chewing gum,
and his eyes followed the pair as they crossed the
room. Everything O.K.? he asked.
Yes, thanks, Andy said politely, and Connie
forced a wan smile although she was thinking that
everything was far from O.K. Everything was
nothing, and nothing was exactly zero, she felt like
telling Andy as he helped her back into the car.
Coming around to the other side, he eased his
long legs behind the wheel. Im sorry, he said
gently. Im afraid that was sort of a wild-goose
chase. And it only makes you feel worse than you
felt already, doesnt it?
Connie nodded, without trusting herself to reply
in words.
118

You still insist you wont have dinner with me?

She nodded again.
Then shall I head home?
She said, Please, and sat in silence while he
drove her to the door of the apartment house.
Youve been more than kind, she said with strange
formality when she tried to thank him. I thought we
just might unearth something new.
Well, we did find out that Henry fell over some
feed bags, Andy said with a faint chuckle. Never
mind, Connie. Youve done your best. He patted
her arm. Get a good nights sleep and things will
look brighter in the morning. They always do.
I know. She tried to smile, but her lips felt
heavy.
May I call you sometime, when this has blown
over?
Of course.
She started across the pavement, thinking that in
other circumstances she would have been excited
and thrilled at the attentions of such an attractive
young man. Good-bye, then, Andy was saying
reluctantly.
Good-bye, Andy.
Connie fitted her key into the lock and heard the
car door bang and the motor start. She had her hand
on the knob when suddenly she paused, galvanized.
Then she turned, leaving the key dangling, and
119

raced along the street after the moving car.

Andy! she called, inflamed by an idea which
lent wings to her feet, which made the exhaustion
which had swept her on the ride home evaporate.
Andy, wait a minute. Andy!

120

CHAPTER

10

Night Shift

The car brakes yelped as Andy pulled up short,

glimpsing Connie in the rear-view mirror. She
clutched the door. Andy, Ive just thought of
something. The feed bags! she cried breathlessly.
Wait till I register bewilderment. Or perhaps Id
better park again.
Oh, yes, do! Connie begged. Then come on up
to the apartment for a minute. Its too cold to stand
down here and talk.
The wind whipping along the narrow side street
was wintry and penetrating. Connie shivered in her
red coat while she waited for Andy to back into the
space he had just vacated, but her eyes were bright
with excitement. At last she felt certain that they had
stumbled on a real clue.
It was impossible to curb her impatience as she
opened the door to the foyer and hurried up the
121

stairs ahead of Andy. Tell me all about the delivery

truck which makes the rounds of the animal houses.
Just what is the usual routine?
Connie switched on the lights as she spoke, then
turned to Andy, hands clasped.
Why, he began, pushing his hat to the back of
his head, then taking it off automatically, the men
go around with the various foods, crates of celery,
lettuce, oranges, apples, pans of mash, bags of grain.
They pull up at the back doors of the various houses
so that theyre just a step from the kitchens. They
unload whatever is necessary at each house. Thats
all.
Do they ever cart empty bags back to the
storeroom?
Sometimes. Sometimes they even cart full ones
back, if a diet change has been ordered. Andy was
beginning to see Connies point.
Thats it! She snapped her fingers. Oh,
werent we stupid! We should have checked every
one of those bags in the storeroom, every single one.
It would be the perfect hiding place, she cried. Her
eyes sparkled and her hair shone bright in the
lamplight. She looked electrified.
Andy was more cautious. Could be, he agreed.
It has to be! Connie cried. Henry gave us the
tip when he said he stumbled over some feed bags.
Henry helped us after all. She came over to Andy
122

and looked up at him earnestly. Will you go back

there with me tonight?
Tonight?
Tomorrow may be too late.
Andy thought a minute. Youre right, he said.
But Im starved. Well have to eat first.
Connie could have lived on the food of
excitement for the next few hours, but she
recognized a bargain when she heard one. I could
make some sandwiches and coffee, she suggested.
No, Andy said with surprising firmness. After
all that tramping we did today Ill settle for nothing
less than a steak.
Goodness, you have expensive tastes! Youre
going to make some girl a difficult husband,
Connie teased him. Wait just a minute, then, until I
put on a sweater under this coat. Its getting really
cold outside.
How about breaking out that new fur job you
were telling me about? Andy asked. Or are you
saving it for a special occasion or something?
This is a special occasion, Connie retorted,
filled with a peculiar elation. Certainly, Ill wear
it. She came back into the living room almost at
once and Andy whistled, Well! Youre sure that
isnt the missing mink?
Connie laughed. Silly! But the skins are let out
just like mink skins, so that it seems almost as
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luxuriousat least to me.

And it looks it, Andy agreed. Its really lovely,
Connie. Im proud to own youfor an evening. He
closed the apartment door behind them and took her
arm.
Connie was in high spirits during dinner, her
weariness forgotten, but she was impatient to get
back to the zoo. Andy would have lingered over
coffee, but tonight Connie was too impatient to sit
quietly and chat.
Come on, you old slowpoke, she chided him.
Up and at em! On with the chase!
Youll give the man you marry ulcers, Andy
told her, but he let himself be persuaded
nevertheless, and by eight oclock they were once
more headed out of town.
It was a dark and moonless night and the traffic
which streamed along the parkway seemed to be
battling the raw, cold wind. Winter is certainly on
its way, Andy commented as Connie sneezed
twice.
I never catch cold, she promised, but she drew
a monogrammed handkerchief which had been a
birthday present from Aunt Bet out of her handbag
and tucked it into the inside pocket of her coat in
case of an emergency. They crossed the high bridge
across the Schuylkill and looked down on the black
river. Connie shivered in spite of herself. It was not
124

a night on which shed like to be abroad alone.

The trees waved and groaned along the West
River Drive, creaking and swaying in the wind. A
snapped branch hung at a crazy angle, threatening
unwary motorists. Andy swerved to avoid it and
turned up the hill toward the zoo. Not a car was
parked in the lot by the north entrance and this
disturbed Connie.
I wish we didnt have to make our presence so
conspicuous, she murmured. Couldnt we leave
the car a little distance away?
Andy found a more secluded parking place, and
together, heads down, they hurried along the high
spiked fence. In nearby paddocks wild cattle
prowled, restless as the wind, and from a distance
came the long, eerie whistle of a western express
train, racing through the night.
Thats one of the most lonesome sounds in the
world, Connie commented.
Wait a minute, Andy said. Listen now!
As the train whistle faded and died, an unearthly
howl rose on the night air. Connie clutched Andys
arm. Goodness, whats that?
A prairie wolf, Andy said. Yodeling sets them
off the same way. Sounds like a banshee, doesnt
he?
Connie shuddered and nodded. To the voice of
the single wolf was added the yapping of a
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companion. Then came deep-throated howls of other

wolves and the sharp barks of foxes. The resulting
ensemble, to Connies unaccustomed ears, sounded
weird and evil, as though disembodied spirits were
crying out in pain and wrath.
Your night watchmen must be strong-minded
souls, she said to Andy.
They get used to it, he assured her.
I wouldnt. She shuddered again, and pulled her
fur coat closer around her neck. All sense of
anticipation had fled. She wanted to get this job over
with and get home to the comfort of her cozy
apartment and the welcome of an open fire.
On the River Drive, far below, the headlights of
cars twinkled like stars, but their glow didnt reach
Connie and Andy. Above their heads the sky was a
black tent, so that even the shapes of the buildings
were indistinguishable. Connie tried to ignore the
wolves and listen to the more familiar night sounds,
the tapping of a tree branch against the wooden side
of the gatehouse, the grunt of a sleepless animal, the
hooting of an unseen owl. Over all these sounds the
solid thumping of her heart disturbed her. This was
no time to get really scared.
There was no watchman near the gate, so far as
they could tell. Andy hallooed softly a couple of
times, but only the stamping of camels came back in
reply. Wed better go around to the service
126

entrance, he said. I have a passkey, but Id like to

find a watchman before we go prowling around
alone.
Connie waited silently while he opened the gate.
It seemed to her that the shadowless night was alive
with murmurs. As she stood close to the building,
with her back against the cold stone, her ears heard
all manner of sounds, the rumble of a freight train on
a bridge across the river, the discordant wailing of
two alley cats, the faraway honking of a car. The
animal houses, however, seemed sleeping and quiet.
Even the wolves were now still.
I wish wed brought a flashlight, Andy
muttered. Theres one in my office. I think wed
better get it before we tackle the storeroom, unless
we have the good luck to run into a watchman
before we get there. He took Connies hand and
guided her over the rough cobbles of the entrance
court.
Keep clear of the ruts, or youll turn your ankle.
Moving warily, Andy stepped forward into the
velvet dark. And then, suddenly, out of the
blackness, the beam of a torch stabbed the night. As
the dazzle of it touched Connies eyes she flung a
protecting hand upward.
Immediately came the question, Whos there?
Andrew Macrae, Thomas. Its all right. Calmly
Andy stepped forward, smiling into the flashlights
127

beam.
Oh. Beggin your pardon, Mr. Macrae, I thought
it might be a marauder. The man lowered his
flashlight and Connie blinked, adjusting her eyes
once more to the dark.
We have an errand over at the storehouse. We
shouldnt be more than fifteen minutes. Would you
like to walk over there with us and save me the
trouble of going to my office for a flashlight? Andy
asked.
Sure. No trouble at all. Do you want me to stay
and wait for you?
No. That wont be necessary, Andy said.
Perhaps because he had little opportunity to talk
on his long night vigils, Thomas was a garrulous
soul when he was given the opportunity. As he led
them along he talked about the animals. Theyre
restless tonight, he said. Seems like the wind gets
em stirred up, the way it does some people. My
missus, she hates the wind worse than she hates rat
poison, she does.
Interrupting his monologue came the sound of
thin, ghoulish laughter, carried on the wind Thomas
decried from the direction of the Carnivora House. It
sounded so human that Connie drew close to Andy
in alarm. Whats that?
Just one of the spotted hyenas. They always
scream at night.
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Connie breathed a sigh of relief. I must be

getting jittery.
They approached the door to the storehouse, and
Andy brought out his key. Thank you, Thomas, he
said in a tone of dismissal, and the watchman moved
off as soon as he had picked out the light switch
with his torch.
The unshaded bulb, hanging from the center of
the ceiling, threw a wavering, uncertain light on the
floor and walls. Andy cautiously drew the shades,
although the shutters on the outside were closed.
Just as well to keep our search secret, he
mentioned. Gossip spreads around here faster than
it does in a girls boarding school, and it always
seems to distort the facts.
Burlap bags were stacked in uneven heaps in two
corners. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo counted
Connie. You take this heap, Ill take that.
A board creaked under her feet as she circled a
chopping block, adding to the feeling of suspense.
Even the rustle of the yellow taffeta lining of her
coat seemed ominous to Connie, so nervous had she
suddenly become. Wind whistling through the crack
under the door made the light bulb sway, casting
weird shadows on the wall and on Andys face.
You wont have to open them, Andy said. You
can tell by feel.
Touching one of the burlap bags closest to her,
129

Connie realized that he was right. The contents had

a grainy texture, sliding away under the prodding of
her fingers. This shouldnt take so terribly long,
she said.
They poked around for a few minutes in silence.
Then Andy spoke. The reason Im doubtful about
this deal, he said, turning around, is that I think
the truckmen would have noticed immediately the
difference in weight between a grain bag and a bag
stuffed with the mink coat. Unless theyre morons,
he added to qualify his opinion.
Connie faced him across the chopping block.
Ive been thinking the same thing, she admitted.
The bulk might look the same, but the coat would
be very light.
Unless
Unless what?
Unless, by some lucky chance, our thief might
have come across a bag only half empty. Then the
weight would be there, and the bulk too.
That means we ought to start over again,
Connie decided, and do our prodding at the top of
each bag, not at the bottom.
Once more they worked for several minutes
without conversation. Im ready for a progress
report, Andy said finally.
No progress, replied Connie gloomily. Exertion
was making her warm. She slipped out of the
130

muskrat coat and laid it gently on one of the worktables, snaking sure first that the surface was
reasonably clean. Then, as she started back toward
the stacked burlap bags, her heel caught in the
projecting handle of an overturned bucket and she
pitched forward suddenly, grabbing at the chopping
block for support.
Instead of the edge of the wooden table, her left
hand grazed a cleaver stuck casually into the wood.
At that very moment Andy caught her. Careful
there!
Then he saw the spurting blood.
Ive cut myself. Connie bit her lip, more
annoyed by her clumsiness than by any pain.
You sure have! Andy whistled sympathetically
and pulled a clean linen handkerchief from his
pocket. Run it under the cold waterover here.
He led her to the sink and turned on the tap and
Connie stood there for a few minutes obediently.
Then Andy tore his handkerchief across and
bandaged the palm of her hand tightly. I dont think
its much more than a scratch, he said
comfortingly, but the fleshy part of your hand
always bleeds like mad.
It doesnt hurt much, Connie said.
It will, a little later, Andy retorted honestly.
Dont forget to put some iodine or mercurochrome
on it when you get home.
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Yes, Dr. Macrae. Connie grinned at him. Now

lets get finished. I apologize for wasting time.
Youre going to sit right herehe pointed out
the one chair the storeroom boastedand watch
me go over the rest of those bags. My pile has
yielded nothing more suspicious than one frightened
mouse.
Eee, Connie said with conventional femininity,
and tucked her heels over the rung of the chair.
Andy chuckled, then walked over to the opposite
stack of bags. How far did you get?
Just to here. Connie walked over to show him,
then automatically reached out to prod the next bag.
At the same time Andy squeezed the upper corner
and their eyes met in unfeigned surprise.
Here was no resistant grain! Under the rough,
coarse texture of the burlap there was something
soft.
Without trying to put into words the hope that
kindled in his eyes, Andy tugged. The bag came free
and sent him staggering backward a few paces as
those on the top of the heap came tumbling down.
Connie seized the cleaver in her right hand and
Andy took it from her and impatiently cut the tightly
knotted cord. An instant later the swinging ceiling
bulb picked out the soft shine of the luxurious mink
pelts.
For a moment the pair stood staring down
132

speechlessly at the bags contents. Although half

expected, the discovery still held all the elements of
surprise. Then Andy drew out the crumpled coat and
gave it a shake, so that the fur literally glistened in
the yellow glare.
It looks a little mussed, but the linings not even
soiled, Connie breathed, turning it to inspect the
yellow taffeta lining so like her own.
By cracky, you were right, Andy was muttering
to himself. Youd make a good private eye,
Connie.
Whats that?
A detective, you unsophisticated child.
He laid the coat across her arm and she began to
stroke the fur gently. He could tease her all he liked;
she recognized the approval in his glance.
Fifteen thousand dollars worth of mink, Andy
said softly. Wont you be proud to hand that back
to Mr. Fabian!
Connie nodded. Well be proud, she said. Then
her expression changed from pleasure to
consternation. But we still havent caught the
thief, she said. And we could. We could
easilyAndy! Why, hes bound to walk right into
our hands!

133

CHAPTER

11

Cold Comfort

Andy, its so divinely simple! All we have to do is

notify the police. The thief is bound to come back
for the coat, now that the guard is off.
Probably tonight, Andy admitted gloomily.
Wed better get the heck out of here.
Unless, Connie mentioned thoughtfully, its an
inside job, it ought to be easy to catch him.
Or her, said Andy, as the case may be. Please
dont malign my sex unreservedly.
Connie was standing in the middle of the floor,
her back to the door, hugging the mink coat against
her. But if it is an inside job, she murmured,
thinking out loud, we wont be able to pin the
crime on the thief unless heor sheis caught in
the act.
Now wait a minute! Andy cried. If you think
were going to just stuff that mink back into the
134

grain bag and sit around and wait, Im agin it. Now
that weve got the coat lets jolly well keep it until
we can put it into Mr. Fabians hands.
Connie had to agree that this was sensible, but
she still didnt want to walk out on an unfinished
task. Besides, a normal curiosity made her anxious
to learn the identity of the criminal. It was such an
unusual, hairbreadth chance to have taken. What sort
of mind would reckon that the terror of the crowd
would make an overt act pass unnoticed or trust to
luck that the coat would remain undiscovered in the
storeroom until a real getaway could be planned?
She returned to her original conviction that the
theft had been a spur-of-the-moment job, and again
she recalled the intensity with which Griselda had
spoken of her longing for a mink coat. She tried to
imagine herself in Griseldas shoes. Henry had just
dropped the coat, perhaps, around her shoulders, or
even had tossed it to her after the gorillas escape.
There she was with the precious mink in her
handsactually in her hands!with nobody else in
the Monkey House caring whether school kept or
not. Might it not be possible that Griseldas account
of her own fright had been faked? Might her mind
not be sharper than anyone had thought?
Even assuming all this, it would be no easy
matter for a girl to break into the storehouse and
recapture the coat. It would be far simpler for a zoo
135

employee to accomplish this, unsuspected. Connies

agile mind leaped from possibility to possibility.
Griselda might have had an accomplice, or the theft
might have been, as Connie had mentioned to Andy,
entirely an inside job.
This brought her back to the conviction that the
thief had to be caught red-handed, in this case, if an
arrest were to be made. Yet along with Andy she
was unwilling to risk further endangering the safety
of the precious coat she held in her arms. Her glance
touched her own muskrat coat on the worktable.
I know! she cried, her eyes alight.
Well, dont keep me waiting. Im the anxious
type.
Well substitute my muskrat coat for the mink.
In the dark, a person in a hurry would never know
the difference. Connie walked over and touched the
fur on the table. The fur even feels almost the
same.
You wouldnt want to lose your coat, would
you?
Oh, but I wont, Connie said. It would be only
a nominal riskand there would be so much to
gain. The coats are almost the same color, even
though there is some difference in weight. Why,
even the linings are a lot alike. It would take a
second glance to know that the mink is lined with
pure silk taffeta while mine is only lined with
136

rayon.
It would take a dozen of my glances and still I
wouldnt know, admitted Andy. They both look
alike to me.
There! That settles it. Putting the mink coat
aside Connie started to cram the muskrat into the
half-empty grain bag. Lets tie the cord exactly as it
was tied before and get the bag back to its original
position in the stack. Then, if it is an inside job,
nothing will appear to have been disturbed.
Andy helped a trifle dubiously. When everything
was arranged to Connies satisfaction she slipped
into the fabulous mink. Excitement made her gay.
Take a good look at me! She laughed. Youll
never again see me when Im worth quite so much
on the hoof.
Andy chuckled. Your slang certainly doesnt
match your appearance, he teased. It would be
more refinedand completely trueto say that
youre worth your weight in gold.
And then some!
Come on, lets get out of here, Andy urged as
he reached up to click off the electric switch. Well
warn the guards at once. Then the sooner we get to
the police the better Ill like it. Besides, I can admire
you twice as much in bright lights.
The room was suddenly plunged into darkness,
and as Connie went through the open door the night
137

seemed black indeed. The wind was carrying a cold,

misty rain which touched her face with icy fingers,
and all her excitement was transposed into a sense of
urgency. Like Andy, she too now wanted only to get
away.
Then suddenly she remembered her handbag. She
had left it lying on the counter. Quickly she turned
back, brushing past Andy, who already had his hand
on the doorknob. Just a minute. My purse.
While Andy fumbled for the light switch Connie
felt her way surely through the darkness. Never
mind. I have it! She started back toward the oblong
of gun-metal gray that was the door.
Then she stopped, her body rigid. On the
cobblestone court there had been a footfall, a sound
of movement. Menace seemed to fill the night, but
Connie stood listening and heard nothing. Nerves,
she told herself, trying to urge herself forward once
more.
Andys arm came out, stopping her, pinioning her
behind him. Thomas? he asked, his voice cautious
and questioning. There was no answer. An instant
later he staggered back against her with a grunt.
A scream, still born, ripped Connies throat,
leaving it dry. Without uttering a sound she waited,
knowingwithout seeingthat there was a gun in
Andys ribs. A masculine voice, harsh and
apparently disguised, gave a muttered order. Get
138

back there. A pin-point beam from a pencil-sized

flashlight sought the latch on the door opposite the
entrance. Open that door and back in, both of you.
One yell for help and youre done, understand?
Connie certainly understood, and she knew Andy
did too. His arm kept her shielded by the bulk of his
frame, but with his free hand he obeyed the order
and raised the latch on the heavy door.
It was very thick and opened with an effort, and
during the moments interlude Connie caught a dim
glimpse of the attacker, silhouetted for a moment in
the lighter gray of the open outer door. He was a
slight man, wearing a slouch hat and a black halfmask such as any dime store was selling by the
hundreds at this time of year. The raincoat he wore
was belted at the waist and his hands were gloved.
This she knew and no more, for at that moment the
pencil flashlight searched the inside of a room like a
big closet, from the ceiling of which hung dripping
blood-red carcasses such as Bluebeard never
imagined in his most unwholesome dreams.
The refrigerator room! Connie recognized it with
such instant repulsion that she almost broke and ran,
taking her chances on the spitting nozzle of that
concealed gun. Then Andy was forcing her back,
step by step, still keeping her well behind him, until
the door banged shut with a thud and the latch was
slipped into place to the tune of a sour masculine
139

laugh.
Andy turned, and Connie sagged against him,
cringing from contact with a side of cold, raw horse
meat which caressed her neck like a slimy hand. He
gathered her tight and held her against his chest
protectively. Neither of them said a word.
For a long moment they listened, imagining they
could hear sounds of movement on the other side of
the insulated door. Then they realized,
simultaneously, that they could hear nothing, and
Connie stirred and straightened in Andys arms.
Dont be afraid, he whispered.
Im not, she fibbed, her voice a mere breath. If
only that horse meat would stop slapping me in the
face.
Andy moved a little to the left, changing position
with Connie so that she could stand backed against
the door. I wonder if theres a window in here. I
cant remember.
Neither can I.
Stay where you are, Andy ordered. Ill
investigate.
Better take it easy, Connie cautioned. Our
visitor doesnt approve of unnecessary noise. It was
hard to be jocular, when her very flesh crawled with
distaste, but she was determined to be as good a
sport as possible. After all, she was responsible for
the position they were now in. If it hadnt been for
140

her insistence, they would simply have grabbed the

mink coat and run.
Andy moved away from her cautiously, and it
took every bit of self-control Connie possessed not
to grab for his coat sleeve and cling to him. Not for
half a dozen mink coats such as the one in which she
now huddled would she have ventured to run the
gantlet of those swinging sides of bloody meat. She
crouched against the door, scarcely breathing, while
his stealthy movements told her that Andy was
groping around the walls of the square black room.
Once he grunted and said, Darn! softly but
eloquently, and Connie shuddered as her mind
conjured up the reason for his expletive.
Dont you have a match? Connie whispered.
No. Worse luck.
I have! Connie remembered. She opened the
catch of her handbag and fumbled in its depths. I
picked up a match folder at dinner. My little brother
collects them. It made her feel calmer to say such a
quiet, everyday thing.
Good girl. Andy reached her side again and felt
for her fingers, then took the matches from her.
The match head rasped against the sandpaper and
a whiff of sulphur mingled with the odor of fresh
meat as the match flared. Connie gave a small,
uncontrollable gasp of horror. It would have been
almost better to have remained in the dark.
141

But the match burned long enough to show Andy

one thing without question. There was no window in
the room. There was no egress except by way of the
door. He moved toward Connie until their shoulders
touched, then he looked at the illuminated dial of his
wrist watch.
How long did it take us to find the bag
containing the mink coat?
About twenty minutes, counting time out to
bandage my hand. Connie was grateful for the
question, glad to have something to think about
except the scene the match had illumined. Why?
Well give our friend outside fifteen minutes, no
more. Then well start making a racket that should
wake the deador at least attract the attention of
Thomas, when he comes back this way on his
rounds.
Suppose he doesnt hear us?
Then well be thankful for small blessings.
Such as? It was Connies turn to sound
dubious.
Such as the pleasant fact that this isnt a quickfreeze box. We can just keep walking until morning
and chances are well get off with a light case of
frostbite. Of course, you have the advantage over
me. Wrapped up in mink!
Ill share the mink, Connie offered. Well take
turns.
142

Sh! Lets listen again, Andy suggested, but they

could hear nothing. They might have been in a tomb
in an abandoned graveyard, so silent was their
strange prison.
And even Andys determined levity couldnt
dispel their sense of foreboding for many minutes. It
would be no joke to be incarcerated here until
morning, and Connie knew it quite as well as the
young man by her side.
Yet in whispers they made a decent attempt at
small talk, trying to bolster each others confidence
that Thomas would hear them, that Thomas would
free them when the time came. Just once Connie
mentioned that at least the thief apparently hadnt
recognized the coat, so well hidden had she been
behind Andys back. But in comparison to their
present predicament even fifteen thousand dollars
worth of mink seemed inconsequential. Material
things were of no consequence when personal safety
became involved.
The quarter-hour ticked by with maddening
deliberation. The chill of the refrigerator room was
biting through even the pelts of the Canadian fur,
and Connie shivered miserably as she leaned against
the door. Andys plight, she recognized, was far
worse. He was wearing only the lightweight topcoat
with which he had arrived at the zoo in the morning,
before the weather changed.
143

He swung his arms, crossing them across his

chest and hitting his shoulders with the palms of his
hands. Then he stamped his feet and goose-stepped
in place like a German soldier. Golly, its getting
cold.
It always was cold. Were just getting colder,
Connie said realistically. Youll be glad to share
the mink yet.
Andy checked his watch. Ready to yell? It might
warm us up.
Lets give him five more minutes for good
measure, suggested Connie, her teeth chattering. I
dont want to get shottonight.
Afraid of ruining the mink, I know! Andy tried
to make his voice light and teasing. Why dont you
take it off?
But finally even their attempt at badinage died.
He must be gone by now, Connie admitted. He
wouldnt waste time.
And he must have been fooled by the muskrat,
just as you hoped, Andy murmured.
Whywhy Connie stammered, swept for the
first time by the realization that her own coat would
be taken in the minks place. Andy! My coat isnt
even paid for! Lets yell like crazy! Weve got to get
out of here. Weve got to catch him before he gets
away!
144

CHAPTER

12

The Chase

Connie had country-bred lungs. When she wanted to

scream she could really make it count, and she
yelled now, long and lustily, until the refrigerator
room reverberated with the noise. Andy took a turn;
then they hallooed in chorus, straining their voices
and making Connie cover her ears with her hands.
They waited, but the refrigerator room was well
insulated. Apparently they were as good as dead to
the outside world.
After a second, fruitless attempt, Andy struck
another of their valuable matches and upturned one
of the pans of mash resting on a shelf, so that the
block of meal rested on top of another, leaving the
original pan empty. With a third match, held by
Connie, he managed to see well enough to disengage
a meat hook from the ceiling pulley, and with this he
banged on the bottom of the pan, making an
145

earsplitting din.
After a minute or so he stopped and waited once
more, while the cords of Connies neck throbbed
with the vibration. Unless Thomas happens to be
passing on his rounds, I dont think this is going to
do a bit of good, Andy had to admit reluctantly.
Were really in a pickle for fair.
Not four minutes had passed since Connies first
scream, and the anticipation of keeping up a clamor
all night long was more than either could
contemplate. They stared helplessly into the
darkness and stamped their feet to ward off the
increasing chill.
Then Connie said, Andy, the men who work in
here, the butcher and the cook
Yes?
Sometimes one or the other of them must be
alone.
I suppose so, Andy agreed. What are you
getting at?
Well, if a man came in here alone and pulled the
door shut after himor the door banged shut by
itself perhapshed be trapped just the way we are.
It doesnt make sense.
Great Scott! Andy pulled the cardboard folder
of matches from his pocket once more, his fingers
trembling. Connie, youre a genius or Im a
congenital idiotIm not sure which.
146

The match made a tiny round of light, showing

Connies face pale and large eyed above the soft
mink collar. Together they turned to face the heavy
door and Andy cautiously raised his hand, sheltering
the flame with his cupped hand. Theres got to be a
safety catch. But where?
Wait! A little lower. On your right.
A moment later, incredibly, Andy was able to
push the door open. He did so with considerable
caution, because he had no more desire than Connie
to risk a bullet from the thief, but the storeroom was
apparently empty. Not a sound was to be heard.
He took two paces across the floor and switched
on the light. The grain bags were scattered in
disorderly heaps. Andy glanced at Connie with a
rueful, crooked grin, the kind of grin which would
have made even a less feminine heart turn to mush.
A bright lad I turned out to be! Will you forgive
me?
Of course. Youre a publicity man, not a
butcher. But lets not waste time talking. Weve got
to get to the watchmen. Maybe our mans still
somewhere inside the grounds.
Luck, which up until a few moments before
seemed to have deserted them, came back on the run
in the shape of Thomas, whom they met just a few
steps from the storehouse door.
His flashlight, big and powerful, caught them full
147

in the face and he called, Hey there! I thought

youd left long ago.
Breathlessly Connie poured out their story.
Thomas scratched his head. Why, Golly Ned, he
exploded, I saw that guy not five minutes ago
short, fat fella in a slouch hat and raincoat. Course
he wasnt wearin no mask.
Was he carrying anything? Andy asked. A
bag? A coat?
Nope. The watchman sounded certain. Reason
I didnt stop him was he flashed a detectives badge.
I thought likely he was meeting you. George, the
other watchman, told me earlier he had opened the
south gate to let him in.
Then hell try to go out the same way, was
Connies opinion. Maybe we can head him off
yet!
Could be, agreed Thomas. He was walkin
along the path that skirts the Pachyderm House, bold
as brass, when I seen him.
Hes packing a gun, Andy warned.
Thats all right. I got one too. Thomas didnt
sound scared. But he pulled out a whistle and blew
on it shrilly. To tell George theres trouble, he
said. After hearin that hell hold anybody, even the
director himself.
Together the three ran across the cobblestone
courtyard and out the gate to the macadam walk
148

fronting on the outer semicircle of animal houses.

They passed the immense building where the
elephants, rhinos, and hippopotami were kept with
only a cursory glance. Their quarry would be farther
along by now, perhaps even as far as the Antelope
House or the wolf pens, though the wolves were no
longer howling as they had when Connie and Andy
arrived.
Of course he might dodge off on any of a dozen
paths which crisscrossed the grounds, but on this
they had to take a chance. If, until now, he
apparently felt sufficiently disguised to fool the
watchmen, only Thomass whistle could have
warned him that he was being sought.
Far ahead a beam of light, diffused and pale at
first, but yellowing gradually, sprayed the macadam
path, meeting the beam of the torch Thomas carried.
And Connie gasped and sprinted ahead as, for a
fraction of an instant, a mans crouched, running
figure was pinned between the two. Then it was
gone. Before the Carnivora House was a great statue
of a lioness, carrying a slain wild boar, behind which
the fellow must have dodged. The watchmens lights
played over the approach to the U-shaped building
but not a shadow stirred.
They proceeded more cautiously, Andy grabbing
Connies arm to restrain her. An elephant trumpeted
from somewhere beyond the thick stone walls, and a
149

sense of unreality began to chill Connies racing

blood.
Was the silhouette of a man they had just seen a
mirage? Or was he hiding behind the base of that
statue of the angry lioness, ready to attack them
when they came close?
The two watchmen were calling back and forth
now, as their lights played over the fences, the
moats, the shrubbery hugging the building. I was
inside when I heard your whistle, George reported
as they came closer. I left the door unlocked. Think
he mighta slipped through?
He couldnt have gone on. Your light had him
pinned. Wed better have a look, Thomas replied.
Connie and Andy ran after the two watchmen,
who pounded toward the side door. Then Thomas
stopped suddenly. You go on, he told Andy. Ill
cover the outside, just in case.
The interior looked as fresh and clean as a tiled
bathroom. Only the great cats, aroused from sleep,
who prowled behind the iron bars of their cages lent
an air of brooding terror to the scene. Connies eyes,
attuned to darkness, began to play tricks on her. Was
that a mans face peering from around the corner of
the far cage?
Look! she cried.
But when Andy and the watchman followed the
direction of her pointing finger the face was gone.
150

They ran along the cages at a jog trot, panting now,

their heels clicking on the cement floor, but when
they reached the corner, the corridor leading off at
right angles was empty, as was the other ell of the
building. They slowed down in disappointment, and
George let them out the door and locked it securely
behind them.
Connie sighed in dismay. He could have been
there. If only those lions or tigers could talk!
Thomas called out to them. Find anything?
Nary a thing, George replied.
Better head for the south entrance. A city cop
may have heard your whistle. Its our best bet now,
Andy said.
Past the Antelope House and the seal pool they
hurried, and around a curve toward the picnic grove,
which would offer ample shelter to a runaway.
There were innumerable places in the zoo grounds
where a fugitive could hide, and on a dark and
moonless night like this the cover was especially
good.
The longer she walked and ran, keeping up with
the men with some difficulty now, the more aware
did Connie become that they were unlikely to catch
their thief, even though they might glimpse him. All
the cards were on his side, the endless curving,
winding paths, the clumps of trees and low-growing
shrubbery, the sighing of the wind, even the mist of
151

rain which blurred the beams of the flashlights on

the walks.
We might as well give up, she sighed to Andy.
Best thing now is just to notify the police, dont
you think?
The police were easy to notify. Just outside the
south gate a police officer stood, twirling a night
stick and peering into the zoo grounds expectantly.
Thought I heard your whistle, he said to
Thomas. Any trouble in here?
The watchman was helped by Andy in telling the
story. Then George unlocked the ticket booth and
pointed out the wall telephone.
While the policeman made his report to
headquarters Connie caught her breath. The only
good thing about all this is that the man we saw near
the Carnivora House wasnt carrying anything. My
coats apparently somewhere in that heap of bags in
the service building, she said. Lets go back and
get it, then head for home. I feel as though I cant
walk another step.
I can give you a lift, the policeman offered,
pointing to his car outside the gate. And while
were at it we may as well keep our eyes peeled, in
case we catch another glimpse of this spurious dick
of yours.
Thomas opened the gate and the policeman drove
his red car inside. Connie, Andy, and the watchman
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who covered the north end of the grounds piled in

gratefully, leaving George to a lonely vigil with a
caution to beware.
It seemed strange to be cutting in and out along
the narrow paths in an automobile. The headlights
threw strange shadows on the pens and the houses.
They awakened drowsy birds and made sleeping
animals stir and cry out.
Wild eyes would flash, momentarily, in the
darkness, yellow or red or gold. Connie shuddered
and moved closer to Andy. There was something so
lonely about those eyes, lonely and distrustful and
even vengeful. She felt that the thief must have eyes
like thatnot quite humancriminal eyes that
should give him away, even in a crowd.
Here we are. The policeman pulled up before
the service gate and Thomas led them back to the
storeroom and helped them restack the bags,
prodding and punching each one according to
Andys instruction, while the policeman made a
second tour of the grounds, weaving his searchlight
back and forth among the trees and shrubbery as he
drove his car at a snails pace.
He had promised to come back and get them, then
take them to the spot where Andys car was parked.
It was a disconsolate group which greeted him at the
door. They had checked only a few of the bags when
Thomas came upon one half filled, the cord with
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which it had been tied cut hastily and tossed aside.

Connies muskrat coat was no longer inside.
But this fake detective I told you about wasnt
carrying a thing, Thomas complained.
Connie remembered a remark he had made
earlier. You described him as a short, fat man,
didnt you?
Thats right.
She looked at Andy. The masked man who
maneuvered us into the refrigerator room was slight,
even thin.
So?
I guess the answers obvious. He wore the
muskrat coat under his raincoat. A smart way of
getting it out of the zoo grounds.
Connie, youve missed your calling, Andy told
her with a wry shake of his head.
I wouldnt say so, Connie retorted sadly. My
ideas may not be too little, but theyre certainly too
late.
They straggled back to the policemans car
wearily, Connies shoulders sagging under the
weight of the mink coat and Andys brow furrowed
with concern. It was such rotten luck, losing a girls
prize possession through such a sequence of
misadventures. The muskrat coat might not be worth
a kings ransom, as was the mink, but it was worth
every bit as much to Connie Blair as the more
154

expensive wrap was to the actress who had bought it

but who would wear it secondhand.
Andys car was where he had left it, unmolested.
They had said good-bye to Thomas at the entrance,
and they now thanked the policeman and cautioned
him to be on guard. The city clocks pointed to
midnight when they left the parkway, and Connie
and Andy were so tired that they ached all over.
They had little to say to each other when they
parted.
At least youll have the satisfaction of returning
the mink, Connie.
Wont you come with me? Its as much to your
credit as mine. She was repeating what she had said
before.
But Andy shook his head. Im going to sleep in
the morning. Give you a call about noon.
Upstairs, Connie tiptoed into the apartment,
taking off her slippers as soon as she was inside the
door because she didnt want to awaken her aunt.
She started to hang the mink coat in the hall closet,
then thought better of it and carried it into the
bedroom. She didnt want to take any chancesnot
at this point in the game.
For the first time in her life Connie was so tired
she couldnt sleep. Until dawn she tossed and turned
on her pillow, reliving the chase through the zoo
grounds. If only she could have got a good look at
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the mans face. If only he hadnt been wearing a

mask. If Thomas had just been a trifle more
observant, but he said the fake detectives hat was
pulled well down over his eyes and that his chin just
looked pointed and perhaps a little weak.
Even the voice had told her nothing. Dimly,
although it was disguised, she felt that it was a voice
she had heard before, but where? There were so
many mens voices threading her days. The voice of
George Renshaw, of Gerald Fabian, of Mr. Jones, of
Andy, and the bitter, worried voice of Henry Colt . .
.
Voices, voices, voices. Voices of men, of
animals, of trains, of buses and trolleys. Griseldas
sulky voice, Carmens throaty one. Aunt Bets gay,
lilting treble. But with what voice had the criminal
spoken? If only she knew that . . .

156

CHAPTER

13

Still at Large

The switchboard operator at Reid and Renshaws

plugged in an outgoing call and glanced toward the
door of the reception room.
Good morning, Miss Blair.
Good morning, Connie replied with a smile that
attempted to conceal her weariness. She felt as
though she had been away from the agency for a
long time, although only two days had intervened
since she had last attacked the work piled up on her
desk. Two eventful days in which all but the Gerald
Fabian account had been forgotten!
Mr. Renshaw would like to see you right away,
please.
Very well.
Connie pulled off her hat and hung it, with her
coat, in the locker in the corner of her office, then
walked down the corridor and tapped discreetly on
157

the executives door. She knew what he wanted. Mr.

Fabian had undoubtedly already called.
Yet it was with no sense of elation or
accomplishment that Connie walked into Mr.
Renshaws office. She had been pleased, of course,
by Mr. Fabians gratification at the return of the
valuable mink, but the loss of her own coat and the
knowledge that the criminal was still at large
weighed heavily upon her spirits.
Mr. Renshaw, however, was full of praise. He got
up from his desk at once and came forward warmly.
Connie! Gerald Fabian just phoned with the good
news, and I certainly do want to congratulate you!
Thank you, Connie said a trifle listlessly.
It was remarkably able reasoning, figuring
things out as you did. He looked at her more
closely. But arent you exhausted? Take the day
off, why dont you? Go home and get some real
rest.
Connie shook her head. You should see my
desk! Ive already had too much time off. Theres
just one thing.
Yes?
What about Henry Colt?
Hes been released, and, as a matter of fact, hes
on the way back to the store right now. To be
honest, its a mighty good thing he was being held
last night, because now no possible further suspicion
158

can be attached to him.

Connie nodded. And hell be reinstated in his
job, I hope.
Thats what I understand. And he has you to
thank for it.
I only wish we could have caught the thief.
Connie shook her head sorrowfully. I hate to leave
a job half done, Mr. Renshaw.
Oh, but, Connie Mr. Renshaw started to
protest just as the door opened and the art director,
carrying a proof of a full-color ad, asked, Am I
interrupting?
No, indeed! Come in, Windham, and share our
good news. What do you think?
Mr. Jones shook his head. Ill bite.
Miss Blair here, with an instinct for the
dramatic, just walked coolly into Fabians and
returned the lost mink coat.
It was just that I thought I should get it back as
soon as possible, before anything else went wrong,
Connie began to explain. With the luck weve been
having, I expected nothing short of fire or flood to
overtake me on my way down Walnut Street. Then
she glanced from Mr. Renshaw to Mr. Jones.
The art director was holding the handle of the
door as though he needed its support. His aquiline
face was almost gray this morning, and he looked
uncertain and deflated. Now wait a minute. Let me
159

get this straight. Themink?

George Renshaw gave one of the hearty laughs
that seemed to spread from his toes through all of
his six robust feet of height. He clapped Mr. Jones
on the back and said, Dont let it throw you,
Windy. Connies always up to unexpected tricks.
Wait until youve been around here a while longer.
Youll get used to her.
Then, between them, Mr. Renshaw and Connie
told the story. Mr. Renshaw described Mr. Fabians
delight and relief at the coats return, then urged
Connie to repeat the manner of its discovery for the
art directors benefit.
I want to hear it firsthand myself, he added.
Especially your description of the masked man.
Mr. Jones let the door close and sat down on the
nearest chair rather weakly. He looks actually ill,
Connie thought, as she automatically repeated the
tale of last nights experience. Hurrying the account
as much as possible, she touched only lightly on the
wretched time she and Andy had spent in the
refrigerator room and minimized the excitement of
the chase through the zoo grounds. She did,
however, mention the clever method the thief had
used to carry off the muskrat coat he had mistaken
for the mink.
Ill bet he was shocked out of a years growth
when he discovered he was stuck with a let-out
160

muskrat! she said ruefully.

George Renshaw agreed with her. It makes such
a good story its almost worth the price of the
muskrat coat to hear you tell it, he chortled. Dont
you worry about your loss, Connie. Between
Fabians and Reid and Renshaws, well make it up
to you.
Oh, no! Connie protested. I couldnt But
just at that moment Mr. Jones got up and, excusing
himself with a murmured apology, tottered
unsteadily toward the door.
Is there anything wrong? Do you feel ill?
Immediately solicitous, Connie started forward.
But the art director shook his head. Nothing. Ill
be all right, he said rather curtly, and the door
closed almost in Connies face.
George Renshaw frowned, then shrugged.
He looks like a sick man, Connie murmured as
she turned back.
Ill check up on him in a few minutes, Mr.
Renshaw promised. Theres a lot of flu going
around.
Connie nodded, but she still felt disturbed.
Perhaps the strain of the past two days had been too
much for the new art director. He was such a tense,
nervous personunpredictable reallyat one time
overbearing and at another moody and depressed.
She did not, however, share this thought with Mr.
161

Renshaw, because there was a more important

subject uppermost in her mind. She had to make
clear her feeling that she had a moral obligation to
pay the furrier for the muskrat coat.
Forget it, child. Thats nonsense, Mr. Renshaw
said, after she had haltingly explained her point of
view. The service you have done is worth every
penny of what the muskrat probably cost.
But Connie was firm. If I hadnt been so
insistent on trying to catch the thief in the act wed
have both coats today, she said honestly. Its the
old bird-in-the-hand story. I guess I just have to
learn things the hard way.
Lets talk it over later, Mr. Renshaw said as his
telephone began to ring, but Connie went back to
her own office determined to pay the cost of her
folly.
There was some copy to be written for a hosiery
account, several proofs to be checked, a client to call
in behalf of her immediate superior. The hundred
and one details of advertising agency work usually
absorbed Connies complete attention as soon as she
sat down at her desk, but today she felt listless and
uncreative. Her mind kept wandering from the
problems at hand to the problem that was still
unsolved. Where was her muskrat coat now? Who
whowhowas the thief?
If Im not careful Ill find that Ive got that
162

question for a theme song, she chided herself, trying

to fix her mind on the superior value of Maidright
Hosiery. As sheer she wrote. As sheer as what?
As sheer as the chance the thief took when he
cached the mink in a burlap sack half full of grain.
As sheer as the chance that had allowed him to
escape last night.
Hose as sheer as She sat and stared at the
typewriter and at the dismayingly white sheet of
paper. Connie, get yourself back on the job! she
scolded herself.
But she welcomed the interruption of the
telephones jangle.
Hello. Miss Blair speaking.
Connie? Goodness, you sound formal. This is
Andy Macrae.
Hi. How are you this morning?
Propping my eyes open with toothpicks. How
are you?
About the same.
You sound discouraged.
Maybe Im just let down, Connie said.
You shouldnt be. Ive had your praises sung
into my ear by Mr. Fabian, who called the director
and then asked to be transferred to my phone. He
called you all sorts of complimentary names. Seems
to think its the coup of the year.
I hope he thanked you too.
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Oh, he did, but with a certain restraint. After all,

Im not blonde and beautiful, Andy teased.
You idiot!
Ah, now you sound more like yourself!
The chuckle in Connies voice carried over the
wire. Are you sure you know me that well?
If you know me well enough to call me an
idiot, Andy retorted.
Touch!
Ill keep in touch with you, Andy promised.
Take care. After he had said good-bye, Connie put
the telephone receiver back into its cradle and sat
staring at it reflectively. There was no doubt about
itAndy Macrae was a very nice guy.
Miss Blair. The receptionist stood in the door to
Connies office. Theres a young man out here who
wants to see you. Im not sure
What is his name? Connie could have made a
guess from the girls hesitant manner.
Henry Colt.
Connie smiled and nodded. Ill come out, she
said. Then, on second thought, she changed her
mind. No. Send him in, please.
Henry entered diffidently, twisting his cap in his
hands. The minute he saw Connie his thin face
colored.
Hello, Henry. Sit down.
The boy perched on the edge of a chair. II just
164

cant thank you, he stammered. But I felt I had to

come here, and try
I think it was very nice of you, Connie said,
interrupting in order to put him at ease. I want to
thank you, too.
Me? Henrys voice rose precariously. For
what?
For giving me the clue that led us to the mink
coat, Connie told him. You told me you stumbled
over some grain bags, remember?
Yeh.
Everything just suddenly clicked, like that!
Connie snapped her fingers descriptively. It was
the perfect hiding place, and you led me right to it.
So Im very grateful to you, too.
Well! Henry blushed even more furiously.
Then, sounding as flustered as a television teenager,
he stammered, Well, gee whiz!
You dont have any more ideas, do you?
What do you mean? Henry asked.
Id still like to catch the thief, Connie
confessed. After all, he has my coat.
Gee, Im sorry about that. Mr. Fabian told me.
Henry looked concerned but helpless. What you
should have had was my Babaco alarm systemin
that icebox you were locked in.
A flash of humor was so rare in Henry that
Connie laughed in surprise. Youre right at that.
165

Maybe youll come across the right answer yet,

the boy said hopefully.
Maybe. Connie sounded as though the chance
were becoming extremely slight. She felt that she
should be more concerned, at the moment, with the
accumulated office work ahead of her, and in an
effort to terminate the interview without seeming
rude she stood up and suggested walking with Henry
to the elevators.
Good-bye, she said, when they had reached the
lobby and pushed the proper button. And thank you
for coming to see me. She held out her hand.
Henry took it and shook it limply, without
meeting her eyes. His want of confidence put him at
a continual disadvantage. No wonder it had been
misinterpreted as guilt.
An upcoming elevator stopped at the sixteenth
floor and the door slid back smoothly. No, you
want one going down, Connie explained as Henry
started forward.
Oh, Im sorry. He side-stepped to avoid
colliding with a short woman in very high heels,
whose hennaed hair was wisping from under a hat
too extreme for her age. Her flashing eyes looked
right through the pallid young man, but she didnt
speak. She seemed intent on some personal
objective and Connie turned to watch her march
across the lobby, completely disregarding the
166

receptionist, and turn into the corridor leading to the

executive offices. From one wrist a patent leather
pocketbook swung angrily, and clutched almost
disdainfully under the other arm was a fur coat lined
in yellow taffeta! Connies heart stopped beating in
momentary disbelief, then raced on as she
murmured an absent-minded good-bye to Henry and
turned to follow the womans retreating back.

167

CHAPTER

14

One for the Money

So? Wonder whats eating her? The receptionist

turned from the switchboard and questioned Connie
inelegantly.
Who is it? Connie hadnt recognized the irate
lady.
Mrs. Jones.
Of course! As though a magician had
whispered some hocus-pocus over a jigsaw puzzle,
the bits and pieces in Connies mind slipped rapidly
into place. One minute nothing matched. The next
the puzzle was finished, the picture complete. She
touched her forehead with the palm of her hand.
Ive been completely blind!
She still felt, as she followed the visitor down the
corridor, that she was wearing smoked glasses, but
at least she was seeing again. She stopped and
listened, unashamed, as Mrs. Jones flung open the
168

door to her husbands office.

You cant get away with this, Windham Jones!
she heard her say in a harsh treble. What do you
take me for, a complete fool? Palming a muskrat off
as mink!
The office door closed hastily, to a muttered
imprecation. Sh! Natalie, for
Connies neat eyebrows rose. She had heard
enough. Unhesitantly, she walked on to Mr. George
Renshaws office and knocked.
Mr. Reid, the senior partner, was sitting in the
chair opposite Mr. Renshaw, but although Connie
would have hesitated, under normal conditions, to
disturb them, this morning she asked quietly, May I
come in?
Both men turned in surprise. But of course, Mr.
Renshaw said.
I think, Connie announced in a calm voice,
that the man who stole the mink coat is Mr. Jones.
Mr. Reid looked at her with complete incredulity.
He didnt understand Connie quite so well as his
partner. But George Renshaw knew that their young
employee rarely made a statement she couldnt
substantiate. He said, Our Mr. Jones?
Our Mr. Jones, Connie repeated. If youll
come down to his office right now I think we should
be able to clear up the matter.
Oh, but really! began Mr. Reid. Then George
169

Renshaw said, Come on, Chip. Wed better take a

walk and see what cooks.
More briskly than usual, he got up and followed
Connie out the door, with Mr. Reid tagging rather
unwillingly along behind. The door to the art
directors office was still closed, and Connie
knocked, interrupting the irate feminine voice she
knew to belong to Mrs. Jones.
What is it? Windham Jones sounded amazed
even alarmed by the interruption.
George Renshaw opened the door. May we
come in a minute? He followed his question by
holding the door for Connie and his partner, who
preceded him into the room.
If the art directors face had been pallid earlier in
the morning it was now positively green. The
cockscomb of pale hair stood up from his forehead
untidily. He looked like a man who was either
harried beyond endurance or definitely ill.
Mr. Reid, Mr. Renshawyou know my wife.
Ignoring Connie, he made a halfhearted presentation
of the woman whose cheeks flamed with two spots
of color and whose very carriage expressed
indignation and fury. Mrs. Jones merely nodded.
She was beyond the point of being courteous, even
to the executives. Toward Connie she flung a glance
of momentary curiosity; then, like her husband, she
ignored the girl.
170

It was an awkward moment, and Connie realized

that since she had instigated this visit it was up to
her to take the bull by the horns. Mrs. Jones, she
asked unexpectedly, what are you doing with my
fur coat?
Every eye in the room was immediately focused
on the muskrat coat thrown over the back of a chair
half hidden by Mrs. Joness bulk.
Your fur coat? the woman piped.
Windham Jones ran a hand through his sparse
hair dramatically. This seems to be my morning for
hysterical females, he complained, and Connie
realized that he still intended to put up a front, even
though she was certain that she could now
reconstruct the major details of the theft. I assure
you, Miss Blair, that this isnt your fur coat, though
I suppose one muskrat coat looks much like another.
It happens to belong to my wife.
Ah, you admit its muskrat! put in Mrs. Jones,
muttering half to her husband and half to herself.
Connie took a chance. It would have a Fabian
label if it were mine. May I look? As quickly as she
spoke she was across the room, turning the fur coat
lining side out, but where the distinctive Fabian
label had been sewn into the taffeta just under the
collar there were only a few needle marks.
Windham Jones raised his eyebrows. For sheer
impertinence he started.
171

What did you dosteal it? interrupted his wife.

Connie could tell, from her inflection, that it was
a purely rhetorical question. She was apparently so
incensed that she wanted to make any scathing
remark she could think of, but it was unexpected to
have her hit the nail so neatly on the head.
Yes, Connie answered before Mr. Jones could
speak. He stole itby mistake. He had expected to
get a mink, but in the dark one looks much like the
other. I had the mink. He got my muskrat instead.
She knew that her words would hit the group like
a bombshell, but unless she could prove the
ownership of the coat, the art director might still be
able to brazen through the whole improbable
accusation she had made.
This young woman is clearly overwrought, Mr.
Jones said in assumed dismay. The events of the
past few days have been too much for her. She is
imagining things.
Im not so sure, Mrs. Jones murmured, her eyes
narrowing as she searched her husbands face for
some clue to the truth.
Connie stood silent, trying to think fast. Certainly
Mr. Fabian could identify his own coat. Perhaps the
workmanship, the sewing of the skinsbut she
needed the evidence now, before Windham Jones
could skip. . . .
Then she remembered the pocket concealed in the
172

lining. A man might never think to check. She

reached out and picked up the coat again and her
hand ran down the inside front where fur joined
taffeta. Ah, it was there! She pulled out a white laceedged handkerchief, and, with a small cry of relief,
handed it to Mr. Renshaw.
Look! This is my handkerchief. Its
monogrammed. That should be proof enough.
It was proof enough for Mr. Jones as well as for
Mr. Renshaw. A cynical smile curled his lip and he
shrugged. Well, it was a nice try, Natalie, he said.
Suppose you explain yourself, Jones, Mr. Reid
suggested.
It might be a good idea, George Renshaw
added. The jig is clearly up.
Mr. Jones bowed as though he were almost
relieved to realize that this was so. Would you care
to be seated? he asked. Its rather a long story.
Connie slipped into a chair with astonishment
written large on her expressive face. Never before,
in all the mysteries in which she had been involved,
had she met a more unpredictable criminal. There
was something wildly incongruous about sitting
down in Mr. Joness office, just as though they were
attending a business conference, not hearing a
confession! She would have felt more comfortable
in a station house.
You see, Windham Jones said conversationally,
173

my wife has extravagant tastes. She comes by it

naturally. Her father was a spendthrift, though a man
of some means.
Well, I Mrs. Jones started indignantly.
Be quiet, please, Natalie. Since this is my story
Ill tell it my own way.
Mrs. Jones subsided and the art director pressed
his thumbs together in a typical gesture. For some
years, he said slowly, we have been living beyond
our income, and it has occasionally become
necessary to borrow from my wifes inheritance,
which has dwindled as a result. We share a checking
account, and not long ago Mrs. Jones sold some
stocks and deposited in it a rather substantial sum of
moneyten thousand dollars, to be exact, the last of
her holdings. I saw a chance to reinvest at a quick
profit and I drew it out, without her knowledge. He
shrugged. The deal fell through. I lost the ten
grand.
His wife gasped, shocked and horrified. You
told me
Mr. Jones nodded. When Mrs. Jones discovered
the withdrawal I stalled for time by telling her I was
planning to get her something shed always wanted,
because she can usually be mollified by a lavish
present. I thought it would give me a few days in
which to turn around. He sighed elaborately.
Everything would have to blow sky high just on the
174

heels of getting this job. Between trying to get set

here at the office and worrying about the next step to
take at home I was driven nearly out of my mind.
Connie felt almost sorry for him. Unattractive as
he was, the man had certainly managed to get
himself into a spot. She could picture him weaving
an elaborate web of lies which got him nowhere. He
lied easily, as she knew from having overheard his
conversation about the zoo idea with Gerald Fabian.
Too easily!
Somehow Natalie got the notion I was getting
her a mink coat, Jones continued ruefully. I let her
think so. What the heck? I was up to my ears
already. A mink coat was as impossible as anything
else. Until payday I wasnt good for a two-ninetyeight strand of imitation pearls. Then, all of a
sudden, completely unexpectedly, I found myself
with a mink coat in my hands.
Henry tossed it to you? Connie broke in.
He threw it at me, to be exact, said Jones. Like
the rest of us, he was scared out of his wits. Such
clawing and scratching to get out that back door Ive
never seen. Then I found myself alone on the steps
with the mink in my arms and an open grain bag
beside me. The impulse was too strong to resist. I
stuffed the coat inside and tied it up again quickly. I
didnt think anyone saw me but I couldnt be sure
until later. And in case they hadMr. Jones spread
175

his handseverybody was acting half crazy. Why

shouldnt I?
As a matter of fact, you got away with it with
surprising luck, Connie said.
Thats right. My luck held, toofor a while. I
even saw them load the grain bags back on the truck
and drive back toward the storehouse. After that, it
was just a matter of timing. If I could get to the bags
before they were opened, I was in the money for a
while again.
Of course you were the man in the mask.
Jones nodded almost proudly. Bought it at a
five-and-ten, along with the detectives badge. I
thought Id attract less suspicion if I walked right
through the gate rather than sneaking in over a
fence. Besides, Im getting a little old to climb
fences. I found that out going the other way.
The other way?
Sure. I had to get out on my own, after the
watchmen were tipped off by the Blair-Macrae
combine, Jones told George Renshaw. It wasnt
too easy to climb a tree, rigged up the way I was
with the minkI beg your pardon, the muskrat!
under my raincoat. But I managed. Then I just
dropped down on the outside of the fence and
walked off.
As youd accused Henry Colt of doing, Connie
mentioned.
176

Did I? Maybe that gave me the idea.

You bribed Hobsonthe special officer at the
zooto testify against him.
So I did!
The man wasnt pitiful, Connie decided. He was
despicable. He ruthlessly incriminated an innocent
young man, then all but bragged about it. She was
glad when Mr. Reid got up and walked out of the
office without making any excuse. She guessed what
he intended to do, and she hoped with all her heart
that Windham Jones would be punishable by law.
Meanwhile Mrs. Jones, who had been wringing
her hands in obvious distraction, took the floor.
Just let me get one thing straight, she said in her
high-pitched, brittle voice, which had a tendency to
crack like a schoolboys. What made you think you
could get away with palming off a muskrat for a
mink? Thats where you made the mistake of your
life!
Again Windham Jones bowed. Youre so right,
my dear! he said acidly. As it happens, I am not a
connoisseur of furs. I didnt know it was a muskrat
for which I had gone to rather considerable bother.
Had I dreamed such a thing I can assure you I would
have dropped it in the nearest ash can, rather than
risk your displeasure and have you come storming in
here!
Yes, murmured Connie to Mr. Renshaw. In
177

the long run, we have Mrs. Jones to thank

George Renshaw came close to grinning. Only
inadvertently, he replied. It was your quick
thinking in switching the mink and the muskrat that
really set the trap.
Trap? questioned Windham Jones insolently.
Youll still have a hard time proving anythingto
the police.
Theres my ten thousand dollars, quavered Mrs.
Jones.
In our joint account, her husband reminded her.
Still, I dont think a conviction will be difficult,
said Mr. Reid from the door. Miss Blair can testify,
along with Mr. Macrae, on several countscarrying
firearms, wearing a false detectives badge, breaking
and enteringeven if the
In here? The figure of a burly cop filled the
doorway behind him, and Mr. Reid stopped talking
and stepped aside. Mrs. Jones started to sniffle into a
flowered handkerchief and Connie got up and
walked back to her own office, where she called the
zoo.
Mr. Macrae, please, she told the switchboard
operator.
There was quite a wait while the connection was
being made; then Andys pleasant, low-pitched
voice came over the wire. Hello!
This is Connie Blair.
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Well! Andy sounded both pleased and

surprised.
Andy, theyve got the thief.
No! Who is it?
Windham Jones.
Dont tell me! As a matter of fact dont tell me
Ill pick you up at your office in fifteen minutes. It
will save, wont it, until then? Id like to take you t
lunch.
Andy sounded so normal and reassuring that
Connie could feel her spirits begin to lift a little.
Everything seems to be an excuse for buying me a
meal, she murmured into the receiver.
Thats the general idea, Andy confessed. See
you as soon as I can grab my hat!
As she hung up, a tender smile began to play
around the corners of Connies lips. Andy was a
darling. He could help her to forget the ugly
expression in the art directors eyes and the flaccid
petulance of Natalies mouth. They were unpleasant
people, both of them, greedy and heartless, people
such as she hoped never again to know. Never
before had crime come so closewithin the very
office circle. Connie shook off her distaste with a
spontaneous shudder and got up from her desk to
meet Mr. Renshaw standing in the doorway.
He was holding her muskrat coat rather tenderly
over his arm. Ready to go to lunch? Id like to take
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you?
Connie could feel herself blush. I already have a
date.
Oh! Mr. Renshaw looked understanding. In
that case let me help you on with your new coat.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and stood
stroking the soft fur gently. I wonder why people
get so excited about mink!

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