"How can you be so sure? How do you know he's not the murderer after all?"
"Oh, there's no doubt. Everything fits in too well. The police were out at Cokesbury Lodge on Saturday and saw the aeroplane and found Miss Hesketh's bag. Both the Whitneys—father and son, who've had a vast experience in this sort of case—say there's no question of his innocence."
We sat silent for a spell, looking at the stove, then I said:
"We're back just where we were in the beginning."
Babbitts leaned forward and shook down some ashes.
"The case is, but we're not," he said.
"How do you make that out?" I asked.
"Six weeks ago we didn't know each other and now we're friends."
"That's so," I said, and we both sat staring thoughtfully at the red eye of the stove.