“The hall door.”
“I see. And you heard him going down the stairs?”
“One can’t hear footsteps with the door closed.”
“And that was at—?”
“The clock over there on my mantel was striking seven.”
“And after that there is nothing further you can tell me about Mr. Endicott?”
“Nothing.”
“You dined. You went to his room. You found the note. You began to worry, and then you called us up.”
“That is it.”
“Was it in this room here or up in the attic, Mrs. Endicott, that you told him you were going to kill him?”
“Here, after he—That wasn’t exactly fair, was it?”
“Heavens no, but awfully smart.” Lieutenant Valcour’s smile was the essence of pleasantness. “I do wish you’d continue with the ‘after he.’ After he did what? Or was it something he said?”
“Did.”
“Yes?”
“I told you,” she blazed, “that he was half animal. You can hardly expect me to become more explicit.”
Lieutenant Valcour was genuinely upset. “I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Endicott,” he said. “About this afternoon, were you in the house?”