Club during the remainder of the day; and Vance and I went with him. We had a belated luncheon in the empty grill.
"This Skeel episode rather knocks the foundation from under everything," Markham said dispiritedly, as our coffee was served.
"Oh, no—not that," Vance answered. "Rather, let us say that it has added a new column to the edifice of my giddy theory."
"Your theory—yes. It's about all that's left to go on." Markham sighed. "It has certainly received substantiation this morning. . . . Remarkable how you called the turn when Skeel failed to show up."
Again Vance contradicted him.
"You overestimate my little flutter in forensics, Markham dear. You see, I assumed that the lady's strangler knew of Skeel's offer to you. That offer was probably a threat of some kind on Skeel's part; otherwise he wouldn't have set the appointment a day ahead. He no doubt hoped the victim of his threat would become amenable in the meantime. And that money hidden in the curtain-rod leads me to think he was blackmailing the Canary's murderer, and had been refused a further donation just before he phoned you yesterday. That would account, too, for his having kept his guilty knowledge to himself all this time."
"You may be right. But now we're worse off than ever, for we haven't even Skeel to guide us."
"At least we've forced our elusive culprit to commit a second crime to cover up his first, don't y' know. And when we have learned what the Canary's various amorists were doing last night between ten
