“And I don’t wonder!” the detective spoke sympathetically. “But all the same, I’m obliged to keep on investigating, and I must ask you what she said to you just now.”
Allen thought over the conversation he had had with Maida. Then he said: “I am telling the truth when I say there was no word said between us that would be of any real use to you. Miss Wheeler is my fiancée, and I tried to comfort her, and also to assure her anew of my faithfulness and devotion in her trouble.”
“And what did she say?”
“Without remembering her words exactly, I think I can state that she said nothing more than to reiterate that she had killed Mr. Appleby. But I want to state also, that I believe she said it, as she said it to you, to shield some one else.”
“Her parents—or, one of them?”
“That is the reasonable supposition. But I do not accuse either of the elder Wheelers. I still suspect an intruder from outside.”
“Of course you do. . . . Anybody in your position would. But there was none such. It was one of the three Wheelers, and I’ll proceed to find out which one.”
“Just how do you propose to find out?”
“Well, the one that did it is very likely to give it away. It’s mighty difficult to be on your guard every minute, and with one guilty, and two shielding, and all three knowing, which is which, as I’ve no doubt they do, why, it’s a cinch that one of the three breaks down through sheer overcarefulness pretty soon.”
“That’s true enough,” Allen agreed, ruefully. “Is that your only plan?”