"Of course not!" she flared. "I want to know so the world can make some sense again." "That's too metaphysical to be true," he said. Briefly, she shivered with tension. Then, leaning back, she picked up her whisky glass and sipped of it and asked coldly: "Where did you go last night after you left the Michaelis place?" "Home," he said. "Guido was badly shaken today. He hadn't slept at all, I could see that in the morning. He stayed around the apartment like a hurt animal. I know him, he's terrified." Corinna spat as if at an enemy: "What did you do to him?" "Nothing!" said Kintyre. Her lip caught her teeth. "I didn't think of it till just now," she breathed. "But it all fits. You do know something. In God's name, tell me!" He said, with an overpowering compassion: "I see. You're afraid Guido is involved." "Yes," she said dully. "Why should he be?" "Oh--I don't know--jealousy? Who can tell? Guido always seemed like the wild, reckless one and Bruce a mama's boy. Yet it was Bruce who left home and Guido never has." "Let's have no half-digested psychological theory," he said, purposely astringent. "Stick to facts. What leads you to suspect your brother is involved?" "I might as well tell you," she sighed. "Last week he was dropping all kinds of dark hints about a big job which would take him out of town over the weekend. He's like that, has to sound important, mostly there's no harm in it. But he came back Monday evening with a good deal of money. I knew he was broke before. He had even been forced to sell his car. He came in loaded with expensive presents for all of us, and had a fat roll in his wallet. Of course, when we told him about Bruce, that more or less made us forget it. But then today, how frightened he was-- "What happened last night?" Kintyre took out a cigarette. "Excuse me while I think," he said. He made a ceremony of lighting it. "Guido is in trouble," he admitted. "I don't know how closely related to the murder it is." "Don't misunderstand me." Her face could have been modeled in chalk. "I never thought Guido would--would dream of--no! But he could have been drawn into something. And what would the police think?" "Uh-huh. The same notion occurred to me." "What happened, then?" He told her. "Oh, no." Her eyes closed. "You see my dilemma," he said wearily. "I'll protect Guido if my conscience will let me, even though it's already led me into lawbreaking. But I don't know, I can't tell--" She opened her eyes again. They blazed. "Thank You," she said, not to Kintyre. His scalp crawled. "What are you thinking of?" "I know Guido," she answered. "I can get the truth out of him." "You can try." She stood up. "I'll take a cab," she said. "What?" He rose himself. "You're not going there now?" "When else? I'm sorry, it's a shabby way to treat you, but do you think something like this can wait?"