when he talked. “I wasn’t in this house until a little after one-thirty this morning—after you had called me up.”
“Which did you think Mrs. Endicott would really do, Mr. Hollander?”
Hollander tried painfully to concentrate. He felt the need of being very careful of his footing: they were on dangerous ground.
“Do?”
“Yes—when she told you during tea at the Ritz that she had about reached the end and was either going to kill Mr. Endicott or commit suicide. Or didn’t you really believe either?”
It seemed impossible that Hollander’s face could grow any paler.
“You’re crazy, Lieutenant.”
“All sorts of people tell me so lots of times, Mr. Hollander. Did you have to wear Endicott’s hat when you went out because you had lost your own?”