“Wouldn’t have had to, if I could’ve doped out the cryptic note someone, I presumed it was the murderer, sent her right after Roffis was found dead. The note was signed ‘Lx’ or Lexington. Miss Moore thought Lanerd had sent it. Actually Walch wrote it in Lanerd’s suite after murdering the guard.”
Hacklin stuck fists on hips. “You didn’t show us any note!”
“Always respect the confidence of the guest, golden rule of the business.” I appealed to Tildy. “‘Seven for a secret’ — what was that?”
She looked away. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“No. Well. ‘Never forget four’ was the one I made a blind guess at. When Fran Lane stayed with you at the Brulard Saturday night, she heard you mumbling in your sleep, ‘One for sorrow, two for mirth.’ Sounded to me like a toast, one sup of the cup for each. Only thing I could work out was ‘One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for da-da, four for—’ only thing anyone would be likely to want to drink to, which rhymes with mirth—”
“Birth,” said Doctor Elm softly. “It’s an Olde English Pub motto; how does it go, now?
“One for sorrow
Two for mirth
Three for a wedding
Four for a birth