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"Edith's too darn' orderly. When she puts something away, I can never find it. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Ted Harkness, Mr. McLean."
"I know."
"I want to find out if you'll take care of my father."
"Judging from what I've read in the papers, your dad's taking pretty good care of himself."
Ted said hesitantly, "He can't stay in the Mahela forever. Sooner or later, they'll get him."
"Sooner or later," John McLean said, "they get everybody. Wish people would stop making a joke out of that old saw, 'Crime Doesn't Pay.' It doesn't."
He resumed poking through the desk while Ted stood uncomfortably, not knowing whether or not he'd been dismissed. Two minutes later, John McLean whirled on him.
"Is your dad guilty?"
"No!"
"How do you know?"
"He said he isn't!"
John McLean chuckled. "Simmer down. I don't want to fight you. Just wanted to find out if you had a good reason for thinking your dad innocent."
"Is the reason good enough for you?"
As though forgetting Ted, the attorney opened another drawer and leafed through its contents.... He said suddenly, "I'll take the case."
Ted sighed relievedly, "Oh, thank you!"
"Better save that until after the trial."
"But--"
"Save your worries, too."
"Then you can help him?"
"We'll figure out something. Who did shoot this Delbert?"
"I wish I knew."
"So do I."
Ted said uneasily, "I haven't any money right now, but I'll have at least two hundred and fifty-five dollars, and perhaps a great deal more, right after deer season."
John McLean murmured, "It'll help. The price of justice is too often too blasted high."
"Do--Do you want to talk with Dad soon?"
"Where is he?"
"Laying out in the Mahela."
"The Mahela's a big place."
Ted said honestly, "I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since he left but--I could get a message to him."
"I won't ask you how. Does your dad mind laying out?"
"No."
"Then leave him until the time's right. It would have been better if he'd given himself up right away; but staying out now will do more good than harm. People, even prosecuting attorneys, can forget quite a bit in a short time."
"Is there anything else?"
"When he comes in, or when you bring him in, I want to be the first to talk with him. Can you arrange that?"
"I'm sure I can."
That night, back at the Harkness house, Ted took Tammie's harness from the closet and emptied it of junk. He replaced the junk with an equal weight of food, added a handful of matches, thrust a pad of paper and a pencil into one of the pockets and strapped the harness on Tammie. Ted took his dog to the back door and let him into the darkness.
"Take it to Al," he ordered. "Go to Al, Tammie."
Tammie, who hadn't been able to see any sense in the pack but who saw it now, raised his drooping ears and wagged his tail. He raced away in the darkness. Ted had scarcely closed the back door when there was an imperative knock at the front.
He opened it to admit Jack Callahan.
7
A FLIGHT OF WOODc.o.c.k
The sheriff stood tall in the doorway, his face unreadable, while at the same time he seemed to strain forward like an eager hound on a hot scent.
Disconcerted, showing it and aware that he showed it, Ted fought for self-possession. He said, "Well h.e.l.lo."
"h.e.l.lo, Ted." Callahan was not unfriendly. "How are things?"
Ted tried to cover his confusion with a shrug. "Not much change."
"You seem," Callahan was looking narrowly at him, "a bit nervous."