"Yes."
Duvall began mentally to check off, in his mind, the various persons who might have used the cigarette which lay before him. Valentin, he now believed, was out of the question. His presence in the automobile, with Grace, the night before, indicated that he had nothing to do with the kidnappers.
There remained Mrs. Stapleton. Duvall had talked with her—seen her grief. He was too shrewd a judge of human nature to think for a moment that it was assumed.
Who else? Suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. He wondered that he had not thought of it before. The nurse! He recalled vividly the marks he had observed on the dresser in the woman's room in New York.
"Is Mary Lanahan in the house?" he inquired of Stapleton.
"Kindly have her come here."
Mr. Stapleton pressed a button on his desk in silence. In a few moments, the nurse had been brought to the room by one of the other servants. She was haggard with grief and fear.
Duvall requested her to be seated, and began to ask her a number of apparently unimportant questions regarding the kidnapping.
She answered them frankly enough, although it was clear that she was very ill at ease.