“Gretchen’s statement to me this morning that Lucille was her ‘young Mees,’ and my recollection of the maid’s behavior at the inquest. Mrs. Hull’s voice is sometimes similar in intonation to that of her daughter, which accounts for Gretchen’s mistake in the identity of the woman under her window,” replied Curtis. “But it was Susanne who gave me a clue to the whereabouts of Meredith’s carefully concealed safe. I would like to speak to Susanne.”
“Monsieur, I am here.” And Susanne, who had been hovering in the back of the room, came forward.
“Why were you in Mr. Meredith’s bedroom?” asked Curtis. “And why were you on your knees?”
“If it please Monsieur,” began Susanne, twisting her apron in some embarrassment as she met Mrs. Meredith’s stern glance, “I heard Madame Meredith talk much to herself about a key and Monsieur John’s wealth being under lock and key in his room. So, Monsieur, I went early this morning to his old bedroom to look for zat key—to return it to Madame” with calm assurance. “And I search on my knees for eet.”
“I had the key until last night,” admitted Anne.
“When I took it from you—” broke in Curtis.
“You!” But Anne’s exclamation was drowned in a deeper cry from Armstrong.
“So you beat me to it!” he cried. “I followed Anne’s car, hoping for a chance to get it from her.”
“You were the masked man?” Light burst upon Anne as Curtis turned his head questioningly from one to the other.
“Yes. I drove by and parked my car on the left fork of the road when I saw you had stopped,” explained Armstrong. “I improvised a mask out of the lining of my coat. I suspected, Curtis, that Anne had given you the key, and was putting up a game of bluff when she claimed it was missing; so I used the monkey to see if you were awake before I entered your bedroom last night. You got a strangle hold on his paw, Curtis, and I took the only way of getting him free,” with an ugly glance at Jocko, sitting curled up in comparative comfort in the big armchair.