“Are you sure?” he demanded. “Think, Leonard, what you are implying-”
McLane nodded. “Her uncle, John Meredith, gave a marmosette to Anne for Christmas. It is a wonderfully intelligent little beast. Anne called it her thinking machine.”
“I never heard of it—”
“How many days have you been here?” quickly. “I came last Friday,” stopping to count; “this is Wednesday morning, four days in all.”
“And John Meredith was killed on Sunday night,” put in McLane. “It is hardly surprising that you are not familiar with everything about Ten Acres and its inmates.”
“I’ve found it a house of mystery,” groaned Curtis. “Where does Anne keep her monkey?”
“Fernando, the Filipino, takes care of it for her—”
Curtis rose. “So that is it!” His face cleared.
“And Fernando is ill this morning. Go, Leonard, and find out if the monkey is still alive and—if its paw is missing. If it is, swear out a warrant for Fernando’s arrest—”
“On what grounds?”