“No. I thought of that, but I can’t see yet how they could have joined forces, even though they both wanted the old chap out of the way. Nor can I connect them with the case separately,—as yet. But it seems to me that one faction or the other must be at fault, for there are no other women on the horizon.” “Chorus girls? Elevator girls?” “I can’t see it. To be sure, I’ve only dipped into things so far, but the crime is so skillfully planned and carried out——” “It might have been impulsive and unpremeditated——” “At the time it happened, yes. I mean, it may not have been planned for that moment, but it was planned beforehand and the criminal sprang to take his chance when it offered.” “Her chance.” “I use the common pronoun. When I say his or him, I merely mean the hand that struck the blow.” “Have you seen the paper,—the message?” “I have it with me.” Wise produced the glass-protected paper and together they studied the writing. “It’s positively Binney’s,” Wise declared. “I’ve compared lots of his writing with it, and it’s surely his. Again, it was surely written at the moment of his death, for Moore found him dying, and the pencil just dropping from his fingers.” “Oh, I don’t doubt all that,” Zizi said, impatiently, “but what does it mean? I’ve gone past the fact that women did it; I thoroughly believe that,—in fact, I think it means that women used the knife, but it may not, it may be merely that they were the primary causes. However, he knew, he was _sure_ of the criminals who were to be punished. Now, if that _bo_ means ‘get both’ there were only two. If it means something else there may be more than two women implicated.” “Oh, Lord, Ziz, don’t gather in more than two suspects. Women don’t form a club for murder.” “Women don’t murder, as a rule, anyway. You know yourself, the small proportion of feminine murderers.” “That ought to make it easier.” “Not at all. These weren’t professionals, who might be listed; they were women, two, most likely, who had a personal matter to settle with the Englishman, and—settled it.” “I grant you all that, except the personal matter. I can’t help thinking the bun business is a factor, and though women did the murder, it may be they were interested in the sale of the buns.” “Reasons?” “Because Sir Herbert Binney was a man who jollied round with little chorus youngsters and such, and they couldn’t and wouldn’t kill anybody. Don’t look for the impossible, or so improbable as to amount to the same thing.” “I agree.” “Nothing has turned up to hint at Sir Herbert’s connection, even acquaintance, with any older women or indeed any woman of a different stamp, of his own station in life, or in society at all. No woman who could be mentioned by name has ever had to do with Sir Herbert since he came to New York,—that we know of.” “There might be somebody though.” “Of course, there might. If there is, we’ll find her. But we can’t hunt a needle in a haystack. If she materializes, we’ll spot her.”