He seemed surprised by her anxiety-ridden countenance. 'Something the matter, miss?'

'I've got to speak to District Attorney Van Dusen.'

49.

'Forget it, young lady. He's on the stage with the mayor, with orders not to be disturbed. There's no way they'll let you in there.'

'But listen -'

'Sorry, miss.'

Victoria slumped in frustration, backed off, and became aware of an anemic-appearing, bespectacled young man staring at her. He took a few tentative steps toward her.

'Pardon me, you're Vicky Weston, the new girl on the Record, aren't you?'

'Yes,' she admitted.

'I met you yesterday when Nick - Nick Ramsey - was taking you around. We were introduced. I'm Jim Purdy, metropolitan desk. What are you doing here?'

She grabbed hold of him as if he were a life belt. 'Jim, listen, you can help me. I've got to see Van Dusen -'

'Not much chance of that right now. Can't it wait?'

'No, it can't. Will you listen to what's happened?' She spilled out the details of her interview at Green Haven with Sam Yinger, the killer's statement that if he were free he'd go after Van Dusen, and now the knowledge that Yinger was free.

Purdy was cautiously impressed. 'He actually stated he'd try to get the D. A.? Did you believe him?

Maybe he was just crowing for you, for your story.'

'You'd have believed him if you'd been there and heard him say it. Anyway, I think Van Dusen should hear about it. Do you know anyone who can get to him?'

'I can get to him,' said Purdy. 'My beat is Van Dusen and criminal courts. Let me see what I can do.'

Victoria followed Purdy to the ballroom doors, heard him whisper to two police guards, saw a door open, and was able to peer around the reporter's head as he looked inside. Victoria could see, beneath the two magnificent chandeliers, tables and tables of formally attired men and women.

Dignitaries on the distant stage were standing.

Purdy called back to her, 'Van Dusen's just said good-bye to the mayor. He's come down the stage steps toward the aisle. Let me see if I can get to him. Wait here.'

With a.s.sent from the guards, Purdy entered the room, hurried down to the carpeted aisle where a tall, thin man in a tuxedo, obviously District Attorney Van Dusen, was making his way between the tables, acknowledging greetings from guests. Halfway along, Purdy intercepted him and began addressing him. Van Dusen leaned over to listen, glanced up, and started toward the doorway where Victoria was waiting.

The district attorney reached Victoria, towering over her. 'You Miss Weston? Purdy tells me that you have important information - something about Sam Yinger wanting to kill me - it's not clear -'

'You know of Yinger's escape?'

'I know from Green Haven - and from your newspaper,' he said wryly.

50.

'I interviewed Yinger at the prison this afternoon. I asked him what he'd like to do if he were free.

He told me that the one reason he'd like to be free is to kill you.'

Van Dusen frowned. 'He really said that?'

'I have my notes. He actually said it.'

'You think he meant it?'

'I think he did. After all, he had no compunction about killing six children.' Victoria wanted to emphasize her belief. 'I'm sure he meant it. He hates you for calling him an animal in court.'

'He is an animal,' Van Dusen said.

'And now he's on the loose,' said Victoria.

The district attorney beckoned to a man who had just come out of the ballroom. As Victoria wondered who the man was, she found Van Dusen taking her hand. 'I want to thank you, Miss -'

'Victoria Weston. The New York Record.'

'- yes, Miss Weston. The chief of police, here will take immediate precautions. He'll double my protection. Can you spare a few moments more? I want you to tell the chief what you told me.

Again, my thanks. I may owe you my life.'

It was several minutes before midnight when Victoria, on the verge of exhaustion, stumbled through the thinly populated newsroom of the Record on the way to her desk. She pulled her notebook out of her purse, praying she had enough strength left to write up her Yinger interview before it was too late.

When she arrived at her desk, she found her swivel chair occupied. A lazy, and perhaps partially intoxicated, Nick Ramsey lolled in her chair, one long leg hooked over the armrest.

'Just keeping the seat warm for Lois Lane,' he said.

'I appreciate that,' said Victoria. 'Now if you don't mind moving, I have a story to write.'

'Don't bother.'

Victoria's brow furrowed. 'What do you mean?'

'Your story's just been canceled.'

'Why?'

'Hotter news. What you have is old news by now.' Ramsey removed his leg from the chair arm and straightened up. 'Sam Yinger is dead.'

'What?' Victoria said with disbelief.

'Yup.' Ramsey stood up. 'Purdy phoned it in from the D.A.'s Gracie Square residence five minutes ago. Van Dusen was returning home from the mayor's testimonial. Sam Yinger was lying in wait with a gun, ready to a.s.sa.s.sinate the D.A. Before he could take aim, the D.A.'s guards gunned him down. Maybe a dozen shots to Yinger's chest and head. He was killed instantly. The D.A. survived unscathed.' Ramsey smiled. 'Thanks to you.'

Victoria moved her head dumbly, trying to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

51.

'It's right there in Purdy's lead. Girl reporter from the Record saves D.A.'s life. Van Dusen gave you credit by name.'

'But my story? There's still a story.'

'Old news, Vicky dear. After that Yinger escaped. Yinger stalked the D.A. Weston alerted the D.A.

Yinger was executed hours earlier than planned. Good-bye, Yinger. Old news.'

'Old news,' said Victoria dully. 'Maybe I should have got my story in earlier. What will Mr.

Armstead think?'

'Can't say. Van Dusen thinks you're a heroine. Edward Armstead - he'll either fire you or give you a raise.' Ramsey hooked his arm through hers. 'Right now, I'll tell you what I think. I think you need a drink.'

CHAPTER FOUR.

Harry Dietz could not remember, in all their years together, ever before having seen Edward Armstead as cheerful as he was this morning.

The publisher's handsome office was bathed in sunshine, which streamed in through the sliding gla.s.s doors that opened onto the balcony. It was as if Mother Nature had directed a special yellow spotlight on Edward Armstead. He leaned back, deep in his leather swivel chair, letting the sun warm his beaming face as he called across his ma.s.sive oak desk to his a.s.sistant, 'Tell me again, Harry.'

Dutifully, Harry Dietz once more reviewed the sheet of paper on his lap. 'Unofficial figures, mind you, but even if they are off, they won't be that much off. Yesterday, the daily New York Times sold, in round numbers, 860,000 copies.' He cleared his throat. 'The New York Record sold 940,000 copies - all our new presses could turn out. You crushed them. You did it.'

'Fantastic,' crowed Armstead. 'A runaway. The Yinger escape did it. Wow.'

Armstead heard the intercom, and then his secretary's voice. 'Mr. Armstead, I have Horace Liddington for you.'

'Thanks, Estelle,' said Armstead. 'I'll take it.' He winked at Dietz. 'This'll knock our old legal-beagle on his a.s.s.' Armstead punched the b.u.t.ton on his phone marked COL 'Horace?'

'h.e.l.lo, Edward,' Liddington said. 'How are you?'

'Have you heard the news about what the Record did in sales yesterday?'

'I had an idea -'

'You what?'

'I guessed what was happening. When I heard them break your story on the late television news, I went out to buy the paper for more details. I had to visit three newsstands before I could find a copy. People were buying it everywhere. You have my congratulations - my heartiest congratulations -'

Armstead cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Dietz, 'Liddington says he guessed it.

We were a sellout in his neighborhood. He's congratulating us now.'

52.

Armstead gave his attention to the telephone once more.

'- I couldn't be happier for you,' Lidington was saying.

'Well, thank you, Horace, thank you.'

'How on earth did you ever get a scoop like that?'

'Never mind how we got the scoop. The zinger in my father's will was obliterated by Yinger.' He savored the poetic justice. Zinger, Yinger. He resumed. 'Let me give you the figures on sales yesterday.' He reached out, took the sheet of paper from Dietz, and said into the phone, 'We exceeded the sales of the Times by 80,000. Listen to the numbers.' He read them to Liddington.

'How does that sound?'

'It certainly sounds as if you're in.'

'You bet I'm in.'

'I'll require some official confirmation to fulfill the condition in your father's will. You'll take care of that?'

'Yes, I'll send you the official figures as soon as I receive them from the Audit Bureau of Circulations in Chicago. But there's no question -'

'I'm merely speaking of a formality, Edward. To all intents and purposes, you have done what was required.'

'Good, good, I'm glad to hear you say that,' said Armstead. 'I have fulfilled the condition in the will.