"That's easy," said Cardona, a slight smile upon his swarthy countenance. "It was a cinch, in the dark. They were all sitting around that circle. When the dagger began to float above, the only one who could have known it was phony was the medium.
"He says he had his eyes shut — always does when he is in a trance. The witnesses agree. But supposing he did catch a flash of that dirk. What could he do?
"If he squawked and hollered for the lights, it might have got him. He was helpless, tied up in the chair."
"Right again!" exclaimed Weston, in a congratulating tone.
"Yes," said Cardona, "the professor sat tight, afraid to squawk. That's the story. The rest were scared stiff — and I include Castelle with the lot. But he had enough sense to use his head."
"CardonaA," said Weston, standing beside the desk, "I aim giving you free rein in this matter. You have done wonders, so far. The case is in your hands."
"Thanks, commissioner," said Cardona, rising. "I'm glad you feel that way about it. I don't want to waste any time, yet I want to feel that I'm not rushed. This trail — if I pick it up — may lead anywhere."
"What do you propose to do? Hold any of these people?"
"Not a one. The professor lives at the Hotel Dalban. He's safe there. We'll give him leeway, but he won't have a chance to skip town. He'll be a good witness, later on. I'm going to let his story ride for the present.
"All the rest are safe enough. Castelle lives at the Merrimac Club. He's a big man, well known and well liked. I can talk with him any time. But right now, I'm going back and work on a clue that will lead me to this man who made the slip."