“It seems to me—” Lewis Hewitt began sarcastically.
“Pooh,” I said. “You cavaliers. I wouldn’t harm a hair of her head. Don’t you suppose the Inspector had thought of that? I know how his mind works—”
“Can it,” Cramer growled. “The way your mind works.” His eyes were narrowed at me. “We’ll discuss that a little later, when I’m through with Miss Tracy. The gun was wedged among the rocks and covered with the moss, and the string was tied to the trigger, and the string was green, so you’re quite a guesser—”
“How long was the string?”
“Long enough to reach. What else do you know?”
I shook my head. “If you can’t tell guessing from logic—”
“What else do you know?”
“Nothing at present.”
“We’ll see.” Cramer looked around. “If there’s a room where I can go with Miss Tracy—”
The man who had been writing at a desk stood up. “Certainly, Inspector. That door there—”