“No, Lieutenant. I was going to use it to shoot Mrs. Endicott if she attempted to get near him again.”
“Again?”
“Why, yes, Lieutenant. She went out of the room last night right after he had knocked and said goodbye.”
“Out into the hallway?”
“Yes.”
“When did she come back?”
“She didn’t come back.”
“Then when was the next time you saw her?”
“When you rang for me—after you had found Mr. Endicott in the cupboard.”
“And you think it was Mrs. Endicott who put him there.” Lieutenant Valcour thought for a moment of the broken finger nail of Mrs. Endicott’s otherwise immaculate hand. “But why, Miss Roberts, should she kill her—tiger?”
“Perhaps Mr. Hollander could tell you that better than I.”
“And why did you get a gun to prevent Mrs. Endicott from going again to her husband, when you knew she was under the influence of a narcotic, that she was unconscious, and couldn’t possibly move?”
“Because, Lieutenant, she never drank the narcotic.”