I said to Bertha, “Wise me up.”
Bertha, with an eye on the corridor, said, “You doped it out right. She committed the murder.”
“How about the confession?” I asked. “Did it mention Alftmont?”
Bertha said, “No. The confession was unfinished and unsigned, but it was in her handwriting. It was one of those ‘to whom it may concern’ things. It started right out by saying that she was the one who had murdered Evaline Harris.”
“Did it mention Harbet’s name?”
“No. That was in the letter she wrote and addressed to me.”
“Are we going to have to use that letter?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If we do,” I said, “remember that e had left her a stamped, addressed envelope, and told her to drop us a line about some other matter. She mailed the letter herself and—”
Bertha Cool said, “For God’s sake, Donald, don’t think everybody is dumb. I got the play as soon as you threw it over the transom. We aren’t going to have to use it. It’s nice, but it’s dynamite.”