"But he knows something—something about the murder of Stella—and he won't tell me what it is. I—I'm afraid for him. He isn't sleeping at night, and I believe he's watching somebody at the studio, and I know—it's the WOMAN'S intuition, Professor"—she emphasized the word, and paused—"he's in danger. He's in some great threatening danger!"
"What do you wish me to do, Miss Loring?"
"I want you to protect him and"—slowly she colored, up and around and about her eyes as she always did, until she wasn't unlike an Indian maid—"and no one must know I've been up to see you."
Gravely Kennedy bowed her to the door, assuring her he would do all that lay in his power. When he returned I was ready for him.
"Now!" I exclaimed. "Now say it isn't Werner! Here is Merle Shirley watching some one at the studio. Isn't that likely to be the director? And if Shirley is watching Werner you have the explanation for the second intruder at Tarrytown last night. Shirley is big enough and strong enough to have given the deputy a nice swift tussle."
"A little tall, I'm afraid," Kennedy remarked.
"You can't go by the deputy's impressions. He didn't really remember much of anything. Certainly he was unobserving."
"Perhaps you're right, Walter." Kennedy smiled. "But how about Gordon?" he added. "There's genuine motive—money!"
"Or Shirley himself!" I attempted to be sarcastic. "There's genuine motive. Stella made a fool out of him."
"It wasn't a murder of passion," Kennedy reminded me. "No one in a white heat of rage would study up on snake venoms."