“The inquest is a farce,” De Medici mused. “They have determined on this clumsy ruse of throwing someone off guard as I thought that night.”
Lieutenant Norton, summoned to the witness chair, was reciting again the details of the case. De Medici listened. With logic and a remarkably convincing mass of detail, the detective was going over the circumstances surrounding the death of Victor Ballau, and bit by bit reconstructing for the jury his theory of the grotesque suicide which the dead man had committed. He added to his theory the motive that had been brought out by the witnesses, the dead man’s financial difficulties, the changing of his will, his purchase of the dagger.
“The inquest stands adjourned until tomorrow,” Coroner Holbein announced as the lieutenant concluded.
De Medici remained, without moving, beside the girl. A respite. Nothing had happened. There would be no damning headlines in the press. His eyes studied the face of the girl. She was in danger. The clumsy evasions of the officials were ominous.
“Come,” he whispered, “I would like to talk to you.”
They made their way through the crowd of friends. De Medici nodded politely in return to the greetings that followed his passage through the room. Norton was watching them, watching them go out together. There would be someone listening when they talked. De Medici leaned close to her ear.
“We must get away. Alone.”
She nodded.
“The theater,” he whispered.
It would be empty. Seated on the empty stage facing the vacant seats, they could be certain of not being overheard.