Left alone, except for a highly intrigued sergeant of police at the end of the library, Landis and Bernard stared at each other with frowning eyes.
“There’s something rotten in Denmark!” Bernard growled.
“Mother-in-law stuff?” hinted Landis. “Natural maternal jealousy? She couldn’t possibly have shot him!” He had lowered his voice so that Sergeant Forbes would not hear.
Bernard heaved about in his chair.
“Lord knows,” he sighed. “Well, let’s quiz the others, especially ‘Uncle Joel’! We may learn something and we can talk it over afterwards.”
“Suppose we have a look around first,” Landis suggested. “We may find something to ask them about.”
Bernard agreed and they walked to the end of the library. Armor, bow and quiver were exactly as they had found them when they first returned. They passed on through the lateral hall to the billiard-room, where they found the door to the sunken garden unlocked. So was the door at the end of the wing hall. They mounted the narrow stairs there and emerged in the hall above, to be instantly challenged by a large policeman. Having quieted him with some asperity, Landis led the way to Miss Mount’s door. It was unlocked and the key was on the inside. Her room seemed undisturbed. The door at the far side of the bathroom was locked, the key on Miss Mount’s side.
The huge, ornate house, where death had once crashed the gate at dinner time and had now tried to do so again, yielded no clue to the man or woman who had guided his dark feet there. The case was tangled, confusing and apparently meaningless. Their mutual sense of frustration amounted to real alarm.
“Come on downstairs again and tackle that bunch,” Bernard growled as they left Miss Mount’s room. “This business has got my goat! It’s the first case I ever saw where nothing fits!”
“It will, though,” answered Landis with an attempt at cheerfulness. “Go ahead. Lead the way.”