“Sam Hollister said last night that Meredith would tell us after the marriage ceremony,” answered Curtis. “But now he is dead.”
“Another mystery!” McLane drew a long breath. “Upon my word, Dave, you have two very pretty problems on your hands.”
Curtis swung closer to his side. “You think that the two are linked together?” he asked. “Meredith’s sudden determined wish for this marriage and then his death—”
McLane hesitated. “It’s impossible to say at this stage of the investigation,” he admitted. “And it is early to surmise.” His voice trailed off as he stopped to glance about the bedroom. Curtis’ hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to the blind surgeon.
“Describe the room, Leonard,” he suggested. “Everything, just as it stands now.”
“I judge the room’s about fifteen by twenty-two feet,” McLane began. “There are four windows opening on a balcony, two facing the east and two the north. Two closet doors, one ajar, and another door leads to the bathroom.”
“And the furniture,” prompted Curtis, as McLane stopped speaking.
“The four-post bedstead, a bed table, with reading lamp and smoking set on it; a highboy and a bureau with toilet silver.” Curtis was listening with close attention to every detail. “Meredith’s desk-secretary is near the east window, and there is a table with books and magazines upon it and another reading lamp near the bathroom door.”
“What about chairs?”
“Three; one a large tufted lounging chair near the north window; a chair by the desk, and, eh,” bending his head to peer around—