As if hypnotized, Lois Dunlap began to grope with the toe of her right pump for the slight bulge under the rug which indicated the position of the bell used for summoning the maid from the kitchen.
With a strangled cry Tracey Miles lunged across the few feet which separated the woman and himself, seized her arm and whirled her violently away from the table.
"Do you want to kill my wife, too?" he panted, his usually florid face the color of putty. "You—you—!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"That would be impossible, Miles," Dundee said deliberately. "For your wife is already dead!" Then his clear words rang out like the knell of doom:
"Tracey Arthur Miles, I arrest you for the murder of your wife, known as Juanita Leigh Selim, and for the murder of Dexter Sprague. And it is my duty to warn you that anything you say may be used against you."
Tracey Miles lifted his ashen face and stared at the detective blankly, as though he had gone deaf and blind. "All—over—isn't it? May I—have a—drink?" he managed to articulate at last.
"Poor devil! He needs it," the too-soft-hearted young detective told himself, as Miles poured a drink from the almost empty whiskey decanter and raised the little glass to his lips.
"I have—nothing—to say!" the murderer gasped thickly, then fell heavily to the floor.