“Don’t come near me, Mac. Delia, I have something to say to you.”
“Yes?” said Delia Priam.
“When that green alligator wallet came, it reminded me of something. Something that belonged to you. I searched your bedroom while you were in Montecito and I found it. One of your bags ― alligator, dyed green, and made by the same shop as the wallet. So I was sure you were behind all this, Delia.”
“You’d better get her out of here,” said Alfred Wallace suddenly. “She’s tight.”
“Shut up, Alfred.” Roger Priam’s voice was a soft rumble.
“Miss Hill,” said Keats.
“No!” Laurel laughed, not taking her eyes from Delia. “I was sure you were behind it, Delia. But Ellery Queen didn’t seem to think so. Of course, he’s a great man, so I thought I must be wrong. But these stock certificates belong to you, Delia. You put them away. You knew where they were. You’re the only one who could have sent them.”
“Laurel,” began Ellery, “that’s not the least bit logical―”
“Don’t come near me!” Her right hand came out of her pocket with an automatic.
Laurel pointed its snub nose at Delia Priam’s heart.