“So you don’t know what this key unlocks?” The Inspector held it out for a second before pocketing it. “All right, Fernando, trot along.” He turned to Hollister. “Good-by, sir; I’ll be over later in the afternoon.”
“Wait,” Curtis laid a detaining hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. “About that scalpel—” He hesitated. “Have you learned anything?”
“Not yet, but I am dead certain that it was used to kill Meredith—”
Hollister started forward. “You have found the weapon?” he exclaimed, running down the steps after Mitchell. “How—where—”
“Come along and I’ll show it to you,” called Mitchell over his shoulder, and not waiting for the others to catch up with him, went toward the front door. Curtis hesitated a second, then, tucking his cane under one arm and grasping the banisters, he hastened to keep up with his more active companions.
As their heads disappeared out of sight down the staircase, Fernando drew a long breath. With a prolonged glance up and down the silent corridor, he walked to Mrs. Marshall Meredith’s boudoir door and knocked softly upon it. At his second tap he heard Mrs. Meredith’s curt, “Come in,” and stepped inside, closing the door at his back with care not to let it slam.
“You sent for me, madam?” he asked.
“Yes.” Mrs. Meredith pushed her chair back from her desk and regarded Fernando through her gold lorgnettes. “I have already told Herman and the other servants that by the terms of Mr. Meredith’s will my daughter inherits Ten Acres,” she stated, having seen in her swift glance about the boudoir that the communicating door between it and Anne’s bedroom was tightly closed. “Miss Anne is still a minor and I am her legal guardian. Thus, you understand, Fernando, that retaining your present situation in this house depends upon your fidelity to me.”
“Yes, madam.”
“So far I have found you satisfactory. I fail to see why you hesitate now.”