“And where were you?” The detective turned to Julie. “Home and in bed,” she said also, but her tone was not convincing. Corson was about to ask further questions of them, but just then Mr Vail came down in the elevator, and the detective turned to him. “What!” Vail exclaimed, as the news was told him. “Binney! Why, who did it?” “Women,” said Corson, succinctly, and Vail looked mystified. “Women! What women? And how do you know?” He was enlightened as to the written message, and he looked utterly amazed. “I never heard of such a thing! How could he write all that after he was stabbed with a stroke that killed him?” “Well, he did! He was just dying when Bob Moore came down from taking you up.” “Oh, then? Yes, Moore and I chatted a few moments about detective stories, and do you mean to say that at that very moment poor old Binney was being murdered a few floors beneath us?” “Just that, sir.” “What an awful thing! Have you any idea of the identity of the women? How _could_ women do it?” “That’s what everybody says! To me it’s just as easy to think women did it as men,—and a heap more logical! Why, a man wouldn’t have dared to come into a brightly lighted place like this and stab somebody and get away again! But an angry woman—that’s just what she would do!” “That’s true: I mean it’s true no man would take a chance like that,—no sane man. But a woman, in a towering rage or insanely jealous or something—well, anyway, it’s the most astonishing case I ever heard of!” “It’s all of that! You knew Sir Herbert Binney pretty well, didn’t you, Mr Vail?” “In a business way; not socially. We had several conferences as to his Bun bakery. I’ve a Bread business of my own, and we talked about a combine, but we finally gave up the plan and Sir Herbert took his offers to the Crippen concern,—or, said he was going to do so.” “You and he friendly?” “Oh, yes; the affair was entirely amicable. The whole thing resolved itself into the fact that his Buns were really more cake than bread,—at least, from the American point of view,—and so better adapted to Crippen’s use than to ours.” “And you came in last night just before Sir Herbert came?” “So you tell me now. Naturally, I didn’t know he followed me in.” “Where’d you spend the evening?” “With a friend, Dr Weldon, in Fifty-first Street.” “Mind if I call him up and ask him?” Vail stared at the detective. “Meaning you’re questioning my veracity, or connecting me with the crime?” Corson reddened, but stuck to his suggestion. “No, sir, but,—well, you’re the nearest I’ve found to a material witness, and——” “Well, do you know, it strikes me you don’t know what a material witness is! However, I’ve not the least objection to your calling up my friend,—go to it! Here’s his number.”