“Then,” and the bird-like little eyes darted from one to another of his listeners and paused at Aunt Abby; “then, Miss Ames, you were also locked in, each night with your niece and her husband, safe from intruders.” “Yes,” and Aunt Abby looked a little startled at being addressed. “I don’t sleep with my door locked at home, and it bothered me at first. But, you see, my room has no outlet except through Mrs. Embury’s bedroom, so as the door between her room and mine was never locked, it really made little difference to me.” “Oh, is that the way of it?” and Dr. Crowell rose in his hasty manner and dashed in at Eunice’s door. This, the middle room, opened on the right to the boudoir, and on the left to Embury’s room. The latter door was closed, and Crowell turned toward the boudoir--now Aunt Abby’s bedroom. A small bed had been put up for her there, and the room was quite large enough to be comfortable. It was luxuriously furnished and the appointments were quite in keeping with the dainty tastes of the mistress of the house. Crowell darted here and there about the room. He looked out of the rear windows, which faced on the court; out of a window that faced on the side street, peeped into the bathroom, and then hurried back to Eunice’s own room. Here he observed the one large window, which was a triple bay, and which, of course, opened on the court. He glanced at Embury’s closed door, and then returned to the living-room, and again faced his audience. “Nobody came in from the outside,” he announced. “The windows show a sheer drop of ten stories to the ground. No balconies or fire-escapes. So our problem resolves itself into two possibilities--Mr. Embury was given the poison by someone already inside those locked doors--or, the doors were not locked.” The restless hands were still now. The Examiner bore the aspect of a bomb-thrower who had exploded his missile and calmly awaited the result. His darting eyes flew from face to face, as if he were looking for a criminal then and there. He sat motionless--save for his constantly moving eyeballs--and for a moment no word was spoken by anyone. Then Eunice said, with no trace of anger or excitement, “You mean some intruder was concealed in there when we went to bed?” Crowell turned on her a look of undisguised admiration. More, he seemed struck with a sudden joy of finding a possible loophole from the implication he had meant to convey. “I never thought of that,” he said, slowly, piercing her with his intent gaze; “it may be. But Mrs. Embury--in that case, where is the intruder now? How did he get out?” “Rubbish!” cried Miss Ames, caustically. “There never was any intruder--I mean, not in our rooms. Ridiculous! Of course, the doors were not locked--they were unintentionally left open--I don’t believe they’re locked half the time!--and your intruder came in through these other rooms.”