“I did look up Mrs. Melville,” answered the unabashed detective, “but I guess she’s straight goods all right. But say, how about Miss Smith?”

The colonel stared, then he laughed. “Birdsall,” said he, “there’s somewhat too much mention of ladies’ names to suit my Virginian taste. But if you mean to imply that Miss Smith is going to kill Archie to get my aunt’s money, I can tell you you are ’way off! Your imagination is too active for your profession. You ought to hire out to the yellow journals.”

His employer’s satire did not even flick the dust off Birdsall’s complacency; he grinned cheerfully. “Oh, I’m not so bad as that; I don’t suppose she did kill the boy; I think he’s alive, all right. But say, Colonel, I’ll give it to you straight; I do think the señora coaxed the boy off. You admit, don’t you, he went off. Well, then he was coaxed, somehow. Now, who’s got influence enough to coax him? You cross out the maid;[125] so do I. You cross out Mrs. Melville Winter; so do I. I guess we both cross out the old lady. Well, there’s you and the señora left. I don’t suspect you, General.”

[125]

“Really? I don’t see why. I stand to make more than anybody else, if you are digging up motives. And how about the chambermaid?”

Birdsall flashed a glance of reproach on his companion. “Now, Colonel, do you think I ain’t looked her up? First thing. Nothing in it. Decent Vermont girl, three years in the hotel. Came for her lungs. She ain’t in it. But let’s get back to Miss Smith. Did you know she is Cary Mercer’s sister-in-law?”

He delivered his shot in a casual way, and the colonel took it stonily; nevertheless, it went to the mark. Birdsall continued. “Now, question is, was Mercer the secretary? You didn’t see the man in the elevator, except his back. Had he two moles?”

“I couldn’t see. He had different clothes; but still there was something like Mercer about the shoulders.”

“Burney didn’t get a chance to take a snapshot, but he did snap the stove man. Here it is. Pull that book out of my pocket.”

[126]Obeying, the colonel lifted a couple of small prints which he scrutinized intently, at the end, admitting, “Yes, it is he all right. Now do you know what I think?”

[126]

Birdsall couldn’t form an idea.

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