“There is, of course, the factor of opportunity. The Bishop is a person who could have been on hand at the time of each murder.”
“That is the flimsiest of contributory evidence,” the man countered. “It would not help much toward a conviction.”
“We might be able to show why the murderer chose the sobriquet of Bishop.”
“Ah! That unquestionably would help.” A cloud settled on Arnesson’s face, and his eyes became reminiscent. “I’d thought of that, too.”
“Oh, had you, now?” Vance watched him closely. “And there’s another piece of evidence I haven’t mentioned. Little Miss Muffet will be able to identify the man who led her to the Drukker house and forced her into the closet.”
“So! The patient has recovered?”
“Oh, quite. Doing nicely, in fact. We found her, d’ ye see, twenty-four hours before the Bishop intended us to.”
Arnesson was silent. He was staring down at his hands which, though folded, were working nervously. Finally he spoke.
“And if, in spite of everything, you were wrong. . . .”
“I assure you, Mr. Arnesson,” said Vance quietly, “that I know who is guilty.”