“Because it might involve him?”
“He couldn’t possibly be involved. If I thought he were I’d tell you in a minute.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Just the same, Mrs. Endicott, I wish you would tell me who he was.”
“No.”
Lieutenant Valcour was able not only to recognize finality, he could accept it. He considered Mrs. Endicott’s very definite refusal to answer his question as of small consequence; there were so many more ways than one for frying an eel. He stood up and crossed to the door. He opened it and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Even in the dimmish light young Cassidy’s normally ruddy face was the colour of chalk.
“What’s happened, Cassidy?”
“Honest to God, Lieutenant, I’m scared stiff. They’re getting things ready in there to bring that corpse back to life.”