“Mrs. Dallas is in love with Mr. Everett. She would rather have her legacy and his legacy than to marry Tracy and have the whole works. Mrs. Dallas is not a grasping sort, but she is a woman of deep passions and she is desperately in love with that good-looking young man.” “You seem to know the secrets of their hearts, March,” Keeley said. “What about Harper Ames?” “He’s the puzzle.” March shook his head. “He’s the one I can’t make out. He asked you to take on the case, didn’t he?” “He certainly did,” Moore stated. “Well, that’s either because he’s innocent himself, or because he wants to appear so.” “Can he swim?” “It’s hard to say who can swim and who can’t. For those who can, can easily pretend they can’t. But that man is as deep as the Sunless Sea, and so far I haven’t been able to size him up exactly.” “But look here, March, if you’ve footprints and fingerprints, what more do you want? Whose are they, anyway?” “That’s another queer thing. They’re Miss Remsen’s, but she isn’t the criminal.” “How do you know?” “I’ve talked with her. Now, I’m puzzled about Ames, he’s a deep and wily sort. But Miss Remsen is a sweet, innocent young girl, and I’m not so inexperienced that I can’t read such. She was scared of me at first, but once I got her calmed down she was straightforward and truthful. I know that, and I’ll stand by it.” I could have hugged the man in my joy at his staunch partisanship toward Alma, and I asked more questions. “Yet you say those were her fingerprints on the window frame?” He gave me a quick look. “You saw them, then? Yes, they were hers, she was there, you know, on the Tuesday afternoon. Her uncle did say she could have the waistcoats for her fancy work, and he gave her the Totem Pole, too. She had the pole in her hand when she went to open a window, as the room was too warm. She remembered its scratching the white paint, and hoped the mark it made could be washed off.” “And was it the mark of her shoe sole on the window sill?” Keeley asked, and I couldn’t judge whether his suave tone was indicative of suspicion or not. “No, sir, it wasn’t!” March sounded triumphant. “Miss Remsen’s soles have little round dots in the rubber, these prints showed diamond-shaped dots.” “That lets her out, then,” Kee said, drawing a long breath of relief, which made me suddenly realize how strongly he had suspected her. “It does, but she never was in. That girl couldn’t have committed that fearsome crime. It’s against all belief! A hardened man of the world, now; or a callous-hearted servant; or even an experienced woman of society; all these sophisticated minds, yes. But that simple-hearted, innocent young girl—no!” “I agree to that,” Lora said, “not only because I want to, but because it’s common sense and also psychology. Alma might have shot or stabbed, in a moment of mad rage, but to bring a nail and hammer—it’s too absurd.” “Do you think the murderer was abnormal?” Maud said to Keeley.