"So you've been after him?"
"Why not? But he's out on the Pacific coast; or so they tell me at the theatre."
"And expected back—when?"
"Soon."
"Do you know when he left?"
"About the middle of July—they say in his office."
"Then that lets him out."
"But it's a lie."
"Well—?"
"I've just remembered: Max was at the Fiske place, urging her to return, the night before you caught Drummond at the bungalow. I saw them, walking up and down in front of the cottage, arguing earnestly: I could tell by her bearing she was refusing whatever he proposed. But I didn't know her then, and naturally I never connected Max with the fellow I saw, disguised in a motoring coat and cap. Neither of 'em had any place in my thoughts that night."