“Trust a woman to get a fool idea into her head and stick to it like a puppy to a root!” I cried, scowling at her.
But she only laughed at me, and changed the subject.
CHAPTER XII
MY SECRET
We went back into the house and Maud, with a smile at me, said:
“Keeley, I asked our super-sleuth, March, to scout around for a stray copy of that book that has in it the story of The Nail, and Graysie, here, is mad at me.”
“Nonsense!” I cried, “I’m not. But I daresay there were some thousands of copies of the book printed, and if, when and as you find one, you can’t at once assume that you have hit upon the murderer of Sampson Tracy.”
“That story is Maud’s angle of the case,” Kee said. “Her own exclusive property and she must be allowed to exploit it as she likes. I’m free to confess I haven’t much faith in it as a pointer, but I will say if the book is found on the bedside table of any one who benefits by Sampson Tracy’s death, it will be a lead that must be followed up.”
“Oh, all right,” I said, grumpily. “I can see you all suspect Alma Remsen more or less, but why don’t you come out and say so?”
“Gray,” Keeley spoke a little sternly, “you’ve fallen in love with Miss Remsen, and while that’s your own affair, you mustn’t assume that it at once absolves her from all suspicion in this matter. Now, wait a minute before you explode. I don’t say the girl is suspected of crime, but there is a possibility that she knows something she hasn’t told, just as Ames knew about that step in the hall, and just as you know something that wild horses couldn’t drag out of you.”
“What do you mean?” I spluttered, angry and ashamed at the same time.