"And he didn't do it himself for two good reasons: he had no revolver that night, and there were no powder marks."
"And the eleven twenty-two, and Miss Maitland's disappearance?"
He looked at me with his quizzical smile.
"I'll have to have another steak, if I'm to settle that," he said. "I can only solve one murder on one steak. But disappearances are my specialty; perhaps, if I have a piece of pie and some cheese—"
But I got him away at last, and we walked together down the street.
"I can't quite see the old lady in it," he confessed. "She hadn't any grudge against Fleming, had she? Wouldn't be likely to forget herself temporarily and kill him?"
"Good Lord!" I said. "Why, she's sixty-five, and as timid and gentle a little old lady as ever lived."
"Curls?" he asked, turning his bright blue eyes on me.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Wouldn't be likely to have eloped with the minister, or advertised for a husband, or anything like that?"