Starr stood for a moment with head lowered, deep in thought. Then he slowly shook his finely proportioned head. "No, I don't. I knew Miss Darrow quite well. As far as I am aware, she had no enemies. I can't imagine why----"
He checked himself. Then he gaped, and his eyes widened, and he looked as though an important matter had just occurred to him. Finally, with a sheepish smile, he began to search his pockets.
"This dreadful affair has upset me completely," he murmured; and then, as if in answer to the question that had flashed through Helen's mind a few moments before, he produced a crumpled piece of paper. "If I had not been so flustered I should have shown you this at once," he added.
He smoothed out the message and handed it to the stout man. The latter's face clouded as he read it aloud:
Mr. Shei, like a fool, rushes in where angels might fear to tread.
A pause followed the reading. Culligore's upper lip brushed the tip of his nose, a sign that he had found a problem to ponder. A blank expression came into the stout man's face. He looked bewilderedly at Starr.
"What do you suppose she meant by that?" he asked.
"That's just what I wondered when the note was brought me," explained Starr, a blend of sadness and self-reproach in his tones. "Miss Darrow was a strange woman, full of subtleties and queer whims. The note startled me at first; then I decided it was only a jest. At any rate, it was time for the curtain, and I dismissed the matter from my mind. Now, in the light of what has happened, I can see it was meant as a warning."
"Undoubtedly." Starr gazed regretfully into space. "In some manner Miss Darrow must have become aware that Mr. Shei was in the house, and she chose this method of warning me of his presence. I was a fool not to see it."
He paced back and forth, running his fingers through his thick hair and muttering self-reproaches. The stout man looked as if he were trying to untangle a mental knot. Again he read the note.
"If Miss Darrow wanted to tip you off that Mr. Shei was in the house, why didn't she say so in plain words?"
"Facetiousness," said Starr grimly. "Virginia Darrow was the kind of woman you would expect to be facetious at her own funeral. Why didn't I realize that she was trying to warn me? I remember now that she behaved in a peculiar manner all evening. Whenever I happened to look in her direction, I found her gazing at me in a strange way. I didn't understand then, but I suppose now that she was trying to send me an ocular message. When that failed, she sent me the note. Oh, why didn't I----"