“Eugene Courtenay.”
“What?”
“Of course it is. I’ve had him in the back of my head for some time, but I couldn’t get a peg to hang a clue on. Now, I see how he could have done it. He did do it, just as the lady said. He slipped in, stabbed his man, turned off the light, and—slipped out again, past Mrs. Stannard.”
“Why didn’t she know it?”
“She did know it! Don’t you see? Those two are in love. They wanted Stannard out of the way. But I don’t think there was collusion. I think it was this way. You know, it is history that Mrs. Stannard and Courtenay were alone in the Billiard Room. Of course he was making love to her, and bemoaning the fact of Stannard’s existence. Now, either he went from her into the studio, and she knew it, or else, he went away, as they say, and returned, through the Billiard Room—and she didn’t know it.”
“How could she help seeing him?”
“Oh, say she was crying,—or had buried her face in a sofa cushion,—or was sitting before the fire and he passed behind her. But admit that he could have gone through that room unknown to her,—which, of course, he could. Well, he goes in, and, later, in the dark, he goes out the same way. I don’t know about her knowledge of any part of this performance, but I think she knew nothing of it, or she wouldn’t have engaged the occult lady.”
“She did that to clear herself.”
“Yes, and Miss Vernon, too. But when the Priestess, as they call her, spoke of a tall, dark man, with a beard, Mrs. Stannard was scared to death and wanted it all called off.”
“A tall man, with a beard?”