“Maggie.”
“Well, Maggie then,—she couldn’t have taken the knife from Miss Prall’s table without its being missed, and Miss Letitia is not the one to lose her property without a word! No, sir, that paper-knife points straight to Letitia Prall. Moreover, she had motive; she wanted the old gentleman out of the way for two reasons. First, so Pet Nephew could inherit the old man’s money, and, second, because the uncle was in favor of the marriage of young Bates with Miss Everett, the daughter of Miss Prall’s deadly enemy!”
“Where’d you get all that dope, Corson?” Gibbs said in astonishment.
“Partly by quizzing round and partly by putting two and two together. Anyway, it’s all true, the motives, I mean. Now, confidentially, just among us three here, could she have done it? I mean, was it physically possible?”
“Anything is possible for Miss Prall,” said Moore, quite seriously. “She is a Tartar, that lady is. And whatever she sets out to do, she does,—irrespective of whether it can be done or not!”
“I mean this. Could she have come downstairs from the eighth floor without being seen——”
“Of course she must have been seen,” broke in Moore. “Whether she came down in the elevator or walked down the stairs she must have been seen. She could have come down the servants’ stairs, but that would have been even more conspicuous.”
“At two in the morning?”
“No; there’d probably be no servants around then.”
“So she could have done that, and waited, say, outside,——”