“And it isn’t illegal, either,” she went on, “to go to sleep, is it?”
Lieutenant Valcour decided that if anything was to be gained from the interview he would have to give a turn to the screw.
“No, Mrs. Endicott, sleeping isn’t illegal. Even,” he added negligently, “if your husband has just been killed, and your—well, whatever state of relationship exists between you and Mr. Hollander—your friend, let us say, is wounded to the point of death.”
The cigarette dropped from her fingers to the floor. Lieutenant Valcour crushed it with the sole of his shoe.
“I don’t believe you.”
Her voice had the same pallid qualities as her skin.
“You must have seen for yourself, Mrs. Endicott, that he was pretty badly hurt when he slipped to the floor. There was blood enough smeared around, goodness knows.”
“You’re trying to trap me.”
“Just stating facts, Mrs. Endicott. Of course you may have left the instant after you fired and so not have seen Mr. Hollander shot down by the police.”
“You are being vulgarly brutal.”
“You were certainly in a frantic enough hurry to have dropped your slipper and not to have bothered to pick it up. Did you throw the gun into the garden, Mrs. Endicott? We’re bound to find it, you know.”
“Is Mr. Hollander still in the house?”
“No.”
“Where have they taken him?”
“To the hospital.”
“Please ring for my maid and leave the room. I must go to him immediately.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Will you please leave this room?”
“You don’t seem to realize, Mrs. Endicott, that you are under arrest.”
The thought stunned her. Her head fell back among the pillows as if it had been thrown there.
“But that’s silly—silly, I tell you.”
“You admitted yourself, Mrs. Endicott, that the truth is always silly.”
“You are actually charging me with the murder of my husband?”
“ ‘Arrest’ was perhaps an injudicious word. I am holding you, Mrs. Endicott, as a material witness, for the present.”
Mrs. Endicott had recovered somewhat from the shock.
“I shan’t be bromidic, Lieutenant, and attempt either tears or bribery. I’m not stupid enough to think that either would affect you in the slightest from the performance of duty. But I should like to appeal to your reason.”
“You will find me a sympathetic listener, Mrs. Endicott. My wretched conceit forces me to add that I shall also be an intelligent one.”
“You see, I knew pretty well what was going on from hearing the nurse and Roberts talking about it. Lieutenant, just what do you want me to admit?”
“That you were on the balcony.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Then how did your slipper get there?”
“It fell from my foot.”
Lieutenant Valcour stood up abruptly. “You will have to pardon me, Mrs. Endicott,” he said, “while I search this room.”
“You misunderstand me. I mean exactly what I say. I wasn’t on the balcony, and the slipper did fall off my foot. If you must know it, I was straddling the window sill.”
“What stopped you from going out, Mrs. Endicott?”
“The sound of the shooting. It unnerved me. I almost fell back into the room and closed the window. I knew that I had dropped a slipper outside, but the idea of doing anything further than hurrying back into bed terrified me.”
Lieutenant Valcour examined the slipper he still held in his hand. “This is a slipper for the left foot,” he said. “And in that case, when you were straddling the window it is the foot which must have been on the outside. Isn’t that so?”
“That’s rather elementary, isn’t it?”
“Quite. But it serves to prove that at the moment when the shots were fired you could look along the balcony toward the windows of your husband’s room. Did you?”
“I imagine so. I’m not quite certain, really. It was absolutely dark out there.”
“On the contrary, there was a glow cast on the balcony from the farthest window, which was open a little, wasn’t there?”
“Perhaps. Yes, I think there was.”
“And did you see anybody standing at that window when the shots were fired?”
“You mean on the balcony?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That is all, Mrs. Endicott.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Frankly, I don’t.”
Mrs. Endicott’s expression hardened perceptibly. Whether from bitterness or from some sudden private determination it was difficult to say.
“Does being detained as a material witness prohibit me from getting out of bed and dressing?” she said.
“Not at all. In fact, it is essential that you do so. You see, we detain our material witnesses in jail.”
He heard again, as he had heard it earlier in the night, the muted echo of brass bells in her voice. “If you will leave me then, please?”
“Just as soon as I have searched the room.”
“For what?”
“For a revolver, Mrs. Endicott.”
Mrs. Endicott closed her eyes. She turned on her side and faced the wall. Lieutenant Valcour conducted his search with the thoroughness and speed born of experience. In the room, in the room’s cupboard, in the various drawers, beneath the different pieces of furniture, there was no gun. He took a dressing gown and placed it on the bed.
“Put this on, please, Mrs. Endicott, I want to search the bed.”
She did so, without either comment or objection. She went to the window and stared unseeingly at the breaking day.
Lieutenant Valcour removed the spread, and with a pencil roughly outlined the damp spot where the narcotic had been spilled. Then he folded the spread and tucked it under one arm. The rest of the bedclothes, the mattress, the pillows, concealed no gun. He walked to the door.
“I will send your maid to you, Mrs. Endicott, if you wish.”
She continued to stare through the window and to present her back to him. She said nothing. He tried to catch the suggestion in her pose. It wasn’t a gesture of petty rudeness or angry spite; nor was it by any means suggestive of despair or fear. He went outside and closed the door.
And as he crossed the corridor to Endicott’s room it occurred to him with shocking clearness that, in spite of the idea’s seeming absurdity, her pose
