“Even though you saw no one,” pursued Vance, “would it not have been possible for some member of the household to have gone out and returned without your knowing it?”
Pyne for the first time during the interview appeared reluctant to answer.
“Well, sir, the fact is,” he said uneasily, “any one might have used the front door this morning without my knowing it, as I was in the dining-room setting table. And, for the matter of that, any one might have used the archery-room door, for my daughter generally keeps the kitchen door closed while preparing breakfast.”
Vance smoked thoughtfully a moment. Then in an even, matter-of-fact tone he asked: “Does any one in the house own a revolver?”
The man’s eyes opened wide.
“Not that I—know of, sir,” he answered haltingly.
“Ever hear of the Bishop, Pyne?”
“Oh, no, sir!” His face blanched. “You mean the man who wrote those letters to the papers?”
“I merely meant the Bishop,” said Vance carelessly. “But tell me: have you heard anything about a man being killed in Riverside Park this morning?”
“Yes, sir. The janitor next door was telling me about it.”