I looked at her quickly, to see if she was guying me, but she was not, and I at once recovered my balance, my self-respect and an added cocksure air that caused the Moores, both of them, great amusement. But I was not at all daunted by their smiles and I went on. “My opinion is this,” I stated, “the man who killed Sampson Tracy is as clever as they come. He fixed up all the rubbishy evidence to mislead the investigators. But, perhaps on purpose, perhaps accidentally, he led directly to Miss Remsen in the matter of the waistcoats and the Totem Pole. And so——” “Now, Graysie, dear,” and Kee threw the stub of his cigar into the ash tray, “I’m ready to talk. So, call a halt on the waistcoat-totem matter, and let’s get down to cases.” “It’s a case, all right,” said Lora, whose fine eyes were gazing directly at her husband, as she concentrated on the subject. “Kee, you’ve got your chance!” “Chance!” Moore echoed. “I’m no Sherlock, I’m ready to say right out that I’m all afloat, absolutely at sea, in this thing.” Somehow this comforted me. I feared he would jump at once to a conclusion that somehow incriminated Alma Remsen, and I was greatly relieved that he didn’t. Wanting to be helpful, I volunteered: “How about the weapon? There’s the nail, of course, but what about the hammer or mallet? I can’t see that nail driven without a heavy implement.” Kee looked at me. “No,” he said, “I can’t either. How about a croquet mallet?” “That would fit,” I responded. “Know of any here-abouts?” “Not precisely. But the tennis court at Whistling Reeds used to be a croquet ground.” I quailed, but I hoped I didn’t show it. “And that proves?” I said, jauntily. “Nothing but possibility.” “Which isn’t much.” “No, it isn’t much.” Kee looked harassed. “But a lot of little bits of evidence, added together, make a——” “Make a muckle,” I jibed. “All right, what’s your muckle?” “That Alma Remsen knows more about this matter than she’s telling.” Moore’s deadly still tone, more than his words, struck a chill of terror to my heart. For a moment, knowing his great wisdom as well as I did, I was tempted to tell him everything, but caution held me back, and I only said, “it may be.” Lora looked at me, curiously. “Gray,” she said, “you don’t know anything, do you?” I was glad she put it like this. “No, Lora,” I replied, “I don’t know anything. If I did, I’d speak out. But I do believe that there is a deep, dark, underlying mystery that none of us understands, and I wish I could see into it.” “Kee will see into it,” she said, confidently, and I could only respond: “I hope to Heaven he will.” Kee sat without speaking for a moment or two, and then said: “Gray, what was the reason for Miss Remsen’s sudden change of base while we were talking to her?” “Change of base?” I said, stupidly.