“Exactly. There were two practical solutions, and only two. One of them was a prior marriage, and the other was an attack of amnesia.”
“And if it had been a prior marriage, she’d have gone to Reno?”
“That’s right.”
“But why should she have gone to Reno if she had been suffering from amnesia?”
“It was a complication of both, causes,” I said, and grinned at him.
“And so you found her in this hospital! How nice!”
“Yes. When I made the evening round, I learned that a woman who answered Miss Burke’s description had been picked up suffering from amnesia. I checked. It was Corla Burke, all right. That put me in a spot. The hospital authorities were trying to find someone who knew her. Naturally, they wanted to pump me. I kept my mouth shut.”
Whitewell raised his left hand to the shining expanse of his high forehead, stroked what hair he had left with the palm of his hand. “If you’d uncovered Helen Framley,” he said, “found that letter, turned it in, and then quit, your services would have been worth a great deal more to me.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me that was what you wanted me to do? You told me you wanted me to find Corla Burke.”
He abruptly pushed his hands down in his trousers pockets. “I see by the paper,” he said, “that the man who was living with Helen Framley was Sidney Jannix.”