“Mrs. Dallas,” I said, promptly. “She isn’t in the household.” “Same as. She has a latchkey, so that makes her practically one of them.” “Then Alma Remsen is in the same case.” “Same case,” I agreed, knowing better than to combat him. “All right, go on. What’s the widow’s motive?” I knew Moore’s methods. He liked to have us make suggestions that he could accept or discard, thereby giving his mind something to work on. “We can’t get at her motive,” I told him, “because we know too little about her. A personal interview with her is needed, and then she would probably, or at least perhaps, let slip some hint of why she wanted Sampson Tracy out of her way.” “She’d have to hate him,” said Maud, doubtfully. “Whoever killed him must have hated him,” Kee declared. “It was a brutal murder——” “Don’t over-stress the brutality,” Lora put in. “It was horrible, of course, but to my mind it was less dreadful than shooting or stabbing.” “Where did the murderer get his nail?” mused Kee. “The nail and the hammer,” Lora said, “inclines me to the servants, or the secretaries. I can’t see Mrs. Dallas or Alma Remsen coming to the house armed with a hammer and nail! They might bring a pistol or a dagger, but the implement used must have been picked up impulsively or impetuously, in the Tracy pantries or offices.” “Unless the murderer acted on the story Maud told of, the Spanish story of _The Nail_,” I observed. “Rather far-fetched,” Kee returned. “I’d have to see a copy of that book in a suspect’s possession before I’d take much stock in that theory.” “I rather fancy it,” Maud insisted. “Any of our suspects, and I suppose they include all who were questioned by the coroner, may have read that book.” “The servants?” I asked. “Yes, often servants read books that they run across, though they’d never dream of buying them.” “Then Griscom for choice,” Moore said. “Say his motive is a desire to get his legacy at once. Say his friendship for his master is not so great as he pretends, and there’s no question of his opportunity. Say he read that gruesome tale, and concluded it would be a fine way to get his money quickly. Then, after his deed is accomplished, he has imagination enough, or ingenuity enough to fix up all those tricks on the bed, and in his zeal he rather overdid it.” “Your own imagination is running away with you,” I declared. “It may all be true, but you’ve no atom of proof, nor even an atom of evidence against Griscom more than any other servant. Sally Bray——” “Sally Bray may have been Griscom’s accomplice. Isn’t she in love with him?” “Is she?” I inquired. “There’s the trouble, Kee, we don’t know enough facts. Is Sally in love with the butler? Is Mrs. Dallas in love with the secretary? Is Harper Ames in love with Mrs. Dallas? Get these things settled for certain, and then try to fit in your theories.”