"Then comes Tony Ford, finds Harland and Miss Whitehall, apologizes and goes through to the private office where Barker is lying low. That the murder was committed there is proved by the two blood spots. Ford established his alibi by leaving; Barker’s is already established—he is in the room above unable to get out without being seen. Even if a crime _had_ been discovered, they were both as safe from suspicion as if they’d been in their own homes. "Miss Whitehall and Barker stay in the Azalea Woods Estates office till the excitement in the street subsides. They’re perfectly safe there; the police, when they come, are going to go to the floor above. When the crowd disperses they leave by the service stairs, she first, Barker a short while afterward. The building and the street are deserted, but even if he _is_ seen, nobody knows enough at that time to question his movements. After that it all goes without a hitch, even the arrest of the chauffeur was all to the good, as it delayed the search for two days. "When it’s known that he has voluntarily disappeared, what’s the explanation? He’s welched on his associates and found it best to take to the tall timber. At this moment he’s probably congratulating himself on his success. There’s just one thing that, so far, he hasn’t been able to accomplish—get his girl." I walked along, not answering. It was pretty sickening to hear how straight they had it. But there was one weak spot; at least I thought it was weak. "Just why do you think a girl like Miss Whitehall—a woman without a spot or stain on her—would lend herself to an affair like that?" "Perfectly simple," he answered. "She expects to marry Barker. Whether she loves him or his money, her actions prove that she is ready to join him whenever he sends for her—ready to do what he tells her. He’s a tremendous personality, stronger than she, and he’s bent her to his will." "Oh, rot!" I said. "You can’t bend a perfectly straight woman to help in such a crime unless she’s bent that way by nature, and _she_ isn’t." He grinned in a complacent, maddening way. "I guess Barker could. He’s as subtle as the serpent in Eden. Besides, how can you be so sure what kind of a girl she is? Who knows anything of these Whitehalls? They came from the West two years ago and settled on a farm—quiet, ladylike women—but not a soul has any real information about them or their antecedents. And _they_ haven’t given out much. They’ve been curiously secretive all along the line. I’m not saying the girl’s a natural born criminal—she doesn’t look the part—but you’ll have to admit her speech and her actions are not those of a simple-minded rustic beauty. In my opinion she’s fallen under Barker’s spell, and he’s molded her to his purpose. _He’s_ the one, _he’s_ the brain. She and Ford were only the two hands."