Her lip caught her teeth.
"I didn't think of it till just now," she breathed. "But it all fits. You do know something. In God's name, tell me!"
He said, with an overpowering compassion: "I see. You're afraid Guido is involved."
"Yes," she said dully.
"Why should he be?"
"Oh—I don't know—jealousy? Who can tell? Guido always seemed like the wild, reckless one and Bruce a mama's boy. Yet it was Bruce who left home and Guido never has."
"Let's have no half-digested psychological theory," he said, purposely astringent. "Stick to facts. What leads you to suspect your brother is involved?"
"I might as well tell you," she sighed. "Last week he was dropping all kinds of dark hints about a big job which would take him out of town over the weekend. He's like that, has to sound important, mostly there's no harm in it. But he came back Monday evening with a good deal of money. I knew he was broke before. He had even been forced to sell his car. He came in loaded with expensive presents for all of us, and had a fat roll in his wallet. Of course, when we told him about Bruce, that more or less made us forget it. But then today, how frightened he was—
"What happened last night?"
Kintyre took out a cigarette. "Excuse me while I think," he said. He made a ceremony of lighting it.