"Thanks, Mr. Sprague," Lois Dunlap drawled, with an amused quirk of her broad mouth.
"Get along with the row, Sprague!" Dundee commanded impatiently.
"As I said, it wasn't really a row. I just pleaded with Nita last night to smooth down the girls' rumpled feathers, and to make it clear to them that she didn't want the star part in the picture any more than she wanted any other woman's husband or sweetheart.... Just a friendly warning—" Sprague drew a deep breath. "And that's all the note meant—absolutely!"
"I see," Dundee said quietly, then quoted: "'Be good, Baby, and you won't be sorry!'"
"That meant, of course," Sprague took him up eagerly, "that I'd see she got a real part in a regular movie, after I'd made my hit with the Hamilton picture."
Very plausible, very plausible indeed, Dundee reflected. And yet—
Finally he lifted his head and let his eyes dart from face to face.
"All of you have stated, separately and collectively, that you heard no shot fired in Nita Selim's bedroom this afternoon," he said sharply. "Is that true?"
He was answered by weary nods or sullen affirmations.
"Then," he continued, "I must conclude that you are all lying or that Nita Selim was killed with a gun equipped with a Maxim silencer."