“Toward the right or left?”
“Why, I don’t know.”
“Try to think. Stand up there now, and remember which way you flung it.”
Reluctantly, Maida went to the bay window, and stood there thinking.
“I don’t know,” she said, at last. “I can’t remember.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Keefe. “I think we can prove that it was none of the Wheelers, but there was a man, an intruder, on the veranda who shot. Even if we never find out his identity, we may prove that he was really there. Where is this maid who saw him clearly? Rachel—is that her name?”
“That’s a pretty thing, too!” Fibsy spoke up. “She has flew the coop.”
“Gone! Where?” Keefe showed his disappointment.
“Nobody knows where. She just simply lit out. Even her lover doesn’t know where she is.”
“Who is her lover?”