But Miss Kelly had quickly motioned them out and closed the door. Even on the outside, however, they could hear her shrill, whining protest against any mention of Morley.
"Now!" said Greenleaf as they went through the living room. "What do you make of that?"
They left the house and stood on the sidewalk outside.
"Not much," Bristow replied, thinking deeply. "What with Withers throwing a fit, and then this girl having, or shamming, hysterics, it's disappointing. But here's a question: what has Morley done since last evening to make her hate him—at least, to make her look frightened when his name is mentioned to her?"
"What do you think?"
"I should say murder, or something just a little short of murder—wouldn't you?"
Greenleaf looked his bewilderment.
"No," he objected. "I don't believe she'd protect him if she knew he'd killed her sister."
"Not if she knew, perhaps," Bristow pursued ruminatively. "But if she suspected, merely suspected?"
The chief did not answer this. He was clinging now to the theory of Perry's guilt. It seemed to him the easiest one to prove.