“But only she and that aunt of hers had opportunity. You know how their bedrooms are?”
“Oh, yes, I know. Miss Ames is using Eunice’s dressing-room—and a nuisance it is, too.”
“Then you know that at night those three bedrooms are shut off from the rest of the house by strong bolts on the inside of the doors.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then, don’t you see, as Mr. Embury was killed—the doctors say about daybreak, or earlier—nobody could have done it except somebody who was behind those locked doors.”
“The windows?”
“Tenth story, and no balconies. And, too, they all have flower-boxes, except one, and the flowers were undisturbed. The one that hasn’t a flower-box is on the side street, in Miss Ames’ room. And that—I looked out myself—has no balcony, nor even a broad ledge. It couldn’t be reached from the next apartment—if that’s what you’re thinking of.”
“I’m not thinking of anything,” returned Fifi. “I’m too dazed to think! Eunice Embury! Do you mean she is really suspected?”
“I mean that, very decidedly, ma’am. And I am here to ask you if you can give any additional evidence, any—”
“Any evidence! Evidence against my dear friend! Why, man, if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell it, if it would go against Eunice!”