“If you have any suspicions let’s have it out, sir,” Woodcote cried.
“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow!” Reggie protested. “It’s the case is suspicious, not me. The primary hypothesis is that something made Miss Sheridan vanish. I’m askin’ you what it was.”
The manager looked at the dramatist. The dramatist looked at Mr. Fortune. “What is it you suspect, then?” he said.
“What does take a lady out alone after dinner?” said Reggie. “I wonder.”
“We don’t know that she went out of the garden, sir,” Bell admonished him.
Reggie lit a cigar. “Think there was a murderer waiting in the garden?” he said as he puffed. “Think she was feeling suicidal? Well, it’s always possible.”
“Good God!” said Eagle.
“You’re rather brutal, sir,” Woodcote grew pale.
“You don’t like those ideas? Well, what’s yours?” They were silent. “Has it ever occurred to you somebody might have annoyed Miss Sheridan?” Mr. Montgomery Eagle became of a crimson colour. “Yes, think it over,” said Reggie cheerfully. “If there was somebody she wanted to take it out of——” he smiled and blew smoke rings.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Woodcote stared at him.