"I suppose, sir," the Chief Inspector growled. "it's no good asking you-'
"No. Except for instructions. I want Potter and a couple of men here, placed where I'll tell you; and it won't do any harm to have 'em armed. Then I'm expectin' an answer to a telegram, and I've got to have that or I may look foolish. Above all, I've got to ask that feller Thompson a question that's just about the most important thing in my whole case. Assemblin' my five characters on the landing of that staircase, with me playin' the part of Marcia Tait to make it six, won't mean a blasted thing and it'll all be wasted effort if I get the wrong answer."
"From Thompson?" demanded Masters. "A question about what?"
"About his tooth," said H. M.
"All right!" snapped Masters grimly, after a silence. "I know this mood, and I know you're serious no matter how you sound. We'll do what you say. But there's one thing I've got to get straight and understood, and at least you can tell me that. This story of Maurice Bohun's about Rainger committing the murder — do you believe it, or don't you? You've scouted every other suggestion, but you didn't shout him down when he spoke. Is he right? The thing's got me fair insane, sir; and I swear I don't know the truth of it.
"I do," said Katharine.
Her voice fell with quiet assurance into the cold room. She stood just in front of the table, her fingers touching it lightly. The light of the electric candles gleamed on the dark hair; her breast rose and fell rapidly under the old tweed coat, but it was the only sign of nervousness.
"You insist," she said, "on going through with this — this scheme of yours for tonight, whatever it is?"
"Well, now!" said H. M. He shifted. One hand shaded his eyes. "I think we'd better, somehow. You don't mind, do you?"
"No. But before you start you can rule out one person. Maybe two."