“When he found that she would not give it up, he killed her with the jimmy and then broke open the desk with it. Here are stains of blood on the desk, showing that it was forced after the murder was committed.”
“That appears probable,” Nick allowed.
“Gordon probably found what he wanted, and then fled,” Phelan went on. “The woman afterward revived sufficiently to realize the situation, also that she was near her end. She must have been too weak to rise, or to make herself heard. But she dragged herself near enough to the wall to write these few words on it with the tip of her finger, dipped in the pool of blood. The smooches of blood on the carpet show plainly that she dragged herself over the floor. She evidently died, or fainted, before she could complete what she would have written. That’s my theory, Carter.”
“Very good,” said Nick, a bit dryly. “All that seems very logical, Phelan, and you’re some theorist. I will look around a bit, however, and see what more I can find.”
“Go ahead,” Phelan nodded. “The day is young.”
It then was only half past nine.
Instead of immediately doing so, however, Nick abruptly changed his mind. He turned to Chick and said:
“I first must see Gordon and see what he has to say. His statements may be of aid in making an investigation. I can run down to headquarters with my car and be back here in half an hour.”
“Easily.”
“Let nothing be disturbed until I return. Admit no one, Phelan, nor give out anything for publication. Gordon is in a position to be ruined politically by this affair. I know he is the last man in the world, however, to have committed such a crime as this.”