4:14 a.m. —Tap—Tap—Tap
Lieutenant Valcour picked the slipper up and sighed. It was a distressingly leading and decisive clue, but it did not lead in a direction he cared to follow, nor did it decide things as he thought they ought to be decided.
On the surface of it, the case seemed blatantly plain: Hollander had come to the house at seven to save Mrs. Endicott from committing murder or suicide and had shocked Endicott almost to death—and just a short while ago Mrs. Endicott had shot her husband to prevent him from making a statement that would convict Hollander.
Rubbish!
Lieutenant Valcour flatly refused to believe it. And yet one had to believe that Hollander had certainly intended to stab Endicott with that knife; the point was irrefutable. Furthermore, Hollander’s motives remained clear enough and beautifully simple: he wanted to protect Mrs. Endicott.
But what about her motives?
And Roberts’s?
And as a kernel to the whole perplexing enigma, what had been the object of the search through Endicott’s pockets and among the papers in the left-hand upper drawer of his desk?
There was nothing to be gained, however, by standing outside on the balcony and admiring the flushing sky and breathing in with the manner of a connoisseur the morning air. Lieutenant Valcour returned, via the bathroom window, to Endicott’s room.