"Did Lockwood or Mendoza know about the dagger and its importance?" suggested Craig.
"If they did, they never said anything about it," returned Whitney promptly. "Mendoza is dead. Lockwood tells me he knew nothing about it until very lately—since the murder, I suppose."
"You suppose?" persisted Kennedy. "Are you sure that he knew nothing about it before?"
"No," confessed Whitney, "I'm not sure. Only I say that he told me nothing of it."
"Then he might have known?"
"Might have. But I don't think it very probable."
Whitney seemed to be turning something over in his mind. Suddenly he brought his fist down on the little round table before us, rattling the glasses.
"Do you know," he exclaimed, "the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that Norton ought to be held to account for that loss! He ought to have known. Then the presumption is that he did know. By heaven, I'm going to have that fellow watched. I'm going to do it to-day, too. I don't trust him. He shall not double-cross me—even if that woman does!"
I wondered whether Whitney was bluffing. If he was, he was making a lot of fuss over it. He talked more and more wildly, as he grew more excited over his latest idea.
"I'll have detectives put on his trail," he blustered. "I'll talk it over with Lockwood. He never liked the man."