“My dear Bob, I’ve had a beastly night, and I feel utterly washed out. And my thoughts keep on going round and round in a circle.” “Poor darling,” said Ellery. “You _are_ having a time.” “And yet, Bob, it’s odd how little it all matters now I have you.” “I must give you a kiss for saying that, my dear. And I must try to live up to it.” “Dear boy,” said Joan, and then for a few minutes they managed to get along without the need for words. Joan was the first to rouse herself. “My dear Bob,” she said, “this is a fine way of wasting time. I thought our job was to find out who did it.” “My dear child, I’ve been thinking all the time. It’s wonderful how putting my head on your shoulder clears my brain. Now I’m ready to behave like a real scientific detective.” “I think you’ll do it better if you sit a little farther off. Now, my lad, what do you think about it?” “I think just this, Joan. I think I know now who did it.” Joan gave a gasp. “You know who did it!” she repeated. “Well, I don’t know; but I think I have a very good idea.” “Do you mean you’ve got some evidence at last. Who was it, Bob? Tell me.” “No, I haven’t any fresh evidence yet. I’ve just been thinking. But I believe it was”—Ellery paused—“Carter Woodman.” Joan gave a half-cry of surprise. “Bob, Bob, you can’t mean that. Whatever makes you say such a thing? My dear boy, it’s quite absurd.” “Why is it absurd, Joan?” “Well, Carter’s a member of the family, and one of our oldest friends, and—but what’s the use of discussing it? Why, he was here yesterday.” “He may be here to-day, dear; but I don’t see what that has to do with it.” “But Carter’s been helping the police all through. He’s——” “Isn’t that just what he would do if he were guilty?” “My dear Bob, this is absurd. We know that Carter was in the Cunningham Hotel all the evening. He couldn’t have done it. Really——” “Do you think that the man who was clever enough to fasten all that suspicion on your stepfather wouldn’t be clever enough to provide himself with a passable _alibi_?” “Oh, yes. But all this doesn’t tell me why you suspect Carter. Put it out of your mind, Bob. I know you don’t like him, but that doesn’t mean that he has committed murder.” “I’ve said to myself already everything that you are saying now. But I still believe that he did it.” “Why, Bob? Have you any reason—any proof at all, I mean?” “No, I’ve no proof; but I’ve an idea. It’s a question of elimination. If nobody else did it, then he did.” “But, my dear boy, what possible motive could he have had? People don’t commit murders just for fun. Do be reasonable. Carter was on quite good terms with both George and John, and he had no reason for killing either of them.”