“So that was that. Interesting, but not particularly helpful. Who else did you cross footsteps with during the night?”
“With several. Every one had dragged anchor and was adrift. Miss Video spent a few moments in Whittaker’s room. I believe he found her there when he went up. And she seems to have enticed him to return the visit. For Mr. Prentice, the young man in negligee, spent most of the night asleep in Whittaker’s room waiting for the absent to return. _He_ may have had designs on the Judge.”
“Or the Judge on Miss Video? What about Crawford?”
“Never saw him. What became of him I haven’t a notion. Probably was the one person to go quietly to bed, having a wife to see that he got tucked in. I bumped into Miss Lacey in the library, quite late. Said she was after a bracer, and looking for her fiancé. She’s engaged to young Prentice. And she’s Whittaker’s niece, as you doubtless know. I saw her to her room, as she was in a state of nerves. And, soon after, I decided the tenseness of the situation had eased, for the time being at least, and turned my back on it. But I’d hardly entered my room when Miss Mdevani came on a visit. She was quite incoherent, but before I could begin to make head or tail of what about, we picked up the first death broadcast. Mrs. Crawford had found the Colonel. Says _she_ was looking for her husband, which leads one to believe he wasn’t in bed after all, as do the clothes he’s wearing. Or else she’s trying to cover _her_ tracks.”
“You don’t think your Miss Mdevani was—fresh from the kill, so to speak? Her manner might suggest it.”
“I’ve thought of it, of course. Who wouldn’t? But—well, with Miss Video’s death, and the Judge’s, I’ve rather discarded her. I feel the three are the work of one. A woman is seldom a good wholesale murderer.”
“Granted. But she’s tarnation clever. Her record isn’t savory, as we all know. Though I admit the motives, such as we have, don’t fall her way. This man Crawford has motive enough for a couple—perhaps even the third, for if he wished to destroy the Diary, as he conceivably would, and Blake was the first to nab it, Blake might have to die. Yes, it looks black for Mr. Crawford. What do you say, Sergeant?”
“My feeling exactly. It looks mighty black for Mr. Crawford. Him that kills once can kill again and kill easier. Come on: let’s catch him cold before he clears out. And before there’s any more shooting. One, two, three murders—”