"Nothing whatever."
"Professor—I wonder if you know how big a bite you've taken? If you go up in the hills hereabouts you'll find whole families living in dirt-floor houses. You'll find children who never heard of a bath or a telephone. But you won't find one person who would live in the Reamer mansion for a salary paid promptly every Saturday morning."
"Nonetheless," Professor Waits replied, "the so-called jinx of the mansion, or any other maligned locality, is a matter of monstrous coincidence. The truth lies hidden in the lives of the people involved. I've been ferreting out that truth."
"You mean this isn't a beginning, Professor?"
He grasped his umbrella in a manner indicating he meant to spear a dragon in case there were any around, and said, "Oh my no! I've been tracing the lives of the principals in this drama for some time. It involves long, tedious work. I must not only dig into the lives of the unfortunates themselves, but also into those of kin; even—in some cases—friends."
"What did you find out about the murder?"
He evaded neatly. "I am not seeking a killer as such. Relative to that facet of the case, I am more interested in Henry Reamer himself. A very wise man once said, 'If you would understand violence, look also into the heart of the murdered'. A man carries the seeds of his destiny in his own soul."
"And you intend to prove it?"
"I am finding more proof every day. Soon I shall publish a paper which will startle the thinking world."