But what about her motives?
And Roberts’s?
And as a kernel to the whole perplexing enigma, what had been the object of the search through Endicott’s pockets and among the papers in the left-hand upper drawer of his desk?
There was nothing to be gained, however, by standing outside on the balcony and admiring the flushing sky and breathing in with the manner of a connoisseur the morning air. Lieutenant Valcour returned, via the bathroom window, to Endicott’s room.
“The night’s almost over, Lieutenant,” said Cassidy by way of greeting.
“Almost over, Cassidy.”
“And it’s been a hell of a night, too, if you don’t mind my saying it.”
“I don’t mind your saying it.”
“Especially for him.”
Cassidy jerked a muscular thumb toward the bed.
“Least of all for him, Cassidy.”
“He may be well out of it at that.”
“He is. There’s a lot of beautiful tripe written about how all people kill the things they love. Metaphysically, perhaps. But with a bullet, Cassidy? Not so.”
“I don’t get you, Lieutenant.”
“That isn’t strange, Cassidy. So far I don’t even get myself.”
Lieutenant Valcour went to the door and opened it. Hansen was standing outside, and in his hand was a gun wrapped in a clean handkerchief.
“Roberts’s gun, Hansen?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. It was just where you said it would be, in the trunk. I wrapped it in a handkerchief to keep any prints you might want on it.”
“That’s right, Hansen. Go upstairs now and wake up Dr. Worth. Ask him if he will please come down here at once.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Hansen hesitated for a minute.
“Well, what is it, Hansen?”
“I understood you all right didn’t I, sir,” Hansen said uncomfortably, “when you told me that maid wasn’t to be put under arrest?”
“Yes. I don’t want to do anything about her as yet. Later on we may book her on a violation of the Sullivan Law and again we may not.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Valcour took the gun and went back into the room with it, closing the door. He carefully unfolded enough of the handkerchief so that the barrel was exposed. He sniffed this and decided that the gun had neither been recently fired nor cleaned. There was just the definite odourlessness which one finds with guns that have not been used or taken care of for a very long time. So far, then, he was inclined to believe that Roberts’s story was correct.
“Is that the rod that done the trick, Lieutenant?” said Cassidy, who had been keenly interested in the sniffings.
“No, it isn’t, Cassidy. This gun hasn’t been fired for years, maybe.”
“Well, I wish it was. I’d like to get out of this joint.”
“Still nervous, Cassidy?”
“No, I ain’t nervous, Lieutenant. I’m just uncomfortable. It’s like there was something in this case that hasn’t broken yet. You know what I mean? Something we ain’t so much as put a finger on.”
Lieutenant Valcour knew very well just exactly what Cassidy meant. He, too, felt that same indefinable effect of impending “somethings” that were connected with obscure danger. It was an emotion, however, which required official scowlings. After all, psychic patrolmen were not considered as being to the best interests of the force. One shouldn’t be allowed, really, to graduate into psychic realms anywhere below the rank of lieutenant.
“Discounting your weekly adventures between paper covers, this is your first real murder case, isn’t it, Cassidy?”
“I thank God it is, sir.”
“Well, you’ll get used to them after a while. Before you’re called in on your fourth or fifth you’ll be finished with having presentiments.”
“Will they be likely to be like this one, sir?”
“That will depend entirely, Cassidy, upon just how much publicity this one is given in the papers, as well as on the supply at hand of potential victims who have weak hearts. I dare say the method will become fashionable for a while.” There was a peevish rap on the door. “Ah, come in, Doctor.”
Dr. Worth was just as peevish as his knock. The camel’s-hair dressing gown in which he was still bundled hinted blurringly at indignant muscles that quivered beneath its loose folds. His hair was rumpled-looking and frowsy.
“Really, Lieutenant,” he began, “this is getting to be beyond a joke.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I had to discuss Mrs. Endicott’s condition with you most seriously and at once.”
Dr. Worth paled a little at this.
“Nothing’s happened to her, too, has there?”
“No, Doctor, nothing has. And I don’t think that just now I could stand another murder. It’s about her physical condition in general. Is her heart all right?”
Dr. Worth’s curiosity was beginning to get the upper hand over his grouch.
“Perfectly sound. Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to try an experiment on her.”
“You want to what, sir?” Dr. Worth almost shouted it. He was thoroughly awake now.
“Not so loud, please, Doctor. I want you to let me stay in the room alone with your patient. You can open the connecting bathroom door a little and watch me through its crack, but I want the nurse out of the way. And I don’t want you to make any noise or comments while you’re watching. I don’t want Mrs. Endicott to know that you’re there.”
Dr. Worth looked at Lieutenant Valcour sharply. “This is nonsense. She couldn’t possibly tell who was or who wasn’t there. She’s unconscious.”
“Perhaps she isn’t, Doctor. This is what her maid has just told me.” Lieutenant Valcour offered Dr. Worth Roberts’s astonishing theory concerning the poured-out narcotic, and Dr. Worth was quite properly astonished. “So you see it’s a possibility, Doctor, and the fact of my finding that slipper outside of the window makes it practically a certainty.”
“It’s the most astounding thing I’ve ever heard of in my life. If you don’t intend to shock her, Lieutenant, I’ll agree to anything you say.”
“I shan’t do anything rough, Doctor, like discharging a gun off near her ear, or pinching her, or slapping her, or any of the tricks
