VII
“I’m going to Wyoming, dearest Elizabeth.”
“Gone long, Dick?”
“Probably not until the last chapter, dearest. There are bound to be complications. You see, I’m going to find out who I am, if any. I must unravel the mystery of my adolescence. It is very annoying not to know whether or not you are whom. As it is now, I may be or I may not be.”
“Who? Whom? Whichever it is.”
“Jud Clark, the murderer of Beverly Carlysle’s husband,” said he.
“How interesting!” she murmured.
The midnight train to Wyoming carried all the principals—all except—those who remained at home.