“He worked alone,” assured Drew, finishing the second cup and setting it down. “I found no evidence of another crook. He worked single-handed and single-minded. He made one mistake. Morphy was a bungler. A bungler is a man who lets his artistic temperament get the better of him. Had he allowed Cuthbert to slay both the—Mr. Stockbridge and yourself over the ’phone, he would never have solved the case. It was the telephoning from Sing Sing that opened up the entire matter.”
“The inevitable slip!” exclaimed Nichols.
“Yes,” said Drew. “They all make it. I could tell you of a thousand instances. But back of the inevitable slip, as you call it, is something deeper. It has not often been mentioned in dealing with criminals.”
“What is it?” asked Loris.
“Ego! Criminal ego! Most transgressors would go to the electric chair if the newspapers would write enough about them.”
Loris raised her brows. “Is that the reason,” she asked, “why Morphy telephoned before he killed poor father?”
“Exactly!” declared the detective. “Ego explains much that we call revenge. Now,” he added, glancing about and at a tiny clock on a cabinet. “Now the questions from everybody! Make them short. Mr. Delaney and I will leave in ten minutes.”
Nichols glanced at Loris. “You first,” he said.
“I’ve just one or two, Mr. Drew,” she said.
“What are they?”