“I quite agree,” said Norton. “All this was evidence we had within two days of the murder. We didn’t act on it but continued our hunt for more. More was necessary and we waited till we got it.” De Medici nodded. “The motive, for instance,” smiled Norton. “Well, three days after the inquest, or two days, I think, Miss Ballau disappeared. We had been watching her closely but she managed to elude us. I put two of my best men in pursuit of her and I devoted my own time to finding out her history. I was able to discover through documents and inquiry that Florence Ballau was not Victor Ballau’s daughter but his stepdaughter. She was a year old when Ballau married her mother in London. As you see, this supplies the beginnings of a motive.” Through De Medici’s mind passed a suddenly illuminated memory of Victor Ballau—the Ballau whose fingers had trembled as he poured the liqueur that night, whose eyes had turned away as he toasted the happiness of his prospective son-in-law. His heart grew heavy as the innuendo of the lieutenant unfolded its logical terminations before him. “We would like to have your theory of the motive,” Dr. Lytton prompted the smiling detective. “Motives, of course, are always more interesting and more important than clews.” “You were to be married,” Norton resumed, turning to De Medici. “And Ballau was jealous.” “I see,” murmured De Medici. He sat staring at the man. Words suddenly danced excitedly in his head. “The thing is mad,” he cried. “You’ve let a preposterous notion run away with you....” Dr. Lytton’s arm reached toward his friend. “We’ve come here to listen, not to argue,” he cautioned. “Pardon me,” De Medici sighed. His face resumed its mask of calm and interest. “Certainly,” Norton answered. “I’m sorry to go into this. But there’s nothing to be gained now by not facing the facts.” “Quite right,” Dr. Lytton smiled. “The facts are what we want.” “The facts are that Mr. Ballau more than anyone else desired the match,” De Medici spoke. “Or seemed to,” Norton interrupted. “But on the night that the engagement was to have been announced he quite changed his mind about the desirability of the match. And he played his trump card with the girl. It was Ballau who telephoned her at the theater at half-past nine. This was a very easy fact to establish. The telephone girl of the Hudson Apartments remembered distinctly, and we have no reason to doubt her word, that Mr. Ballau asked her to get his daughter on the phone at the Galt Theater. Her memorandum pad of outgoing calls contains the notation, ‘Ballau—Columbus 2600. 9:28.’” “Are you certain,” Dr. Lytton interrupted, “that the notation refers to an outgoing call? It may have been Miss Ballau who telephoned her father.”