Markham gave Vance a look of disapproval, and then addressed himself abruptly to the operator.
"That will be all for the moment, Jessup."
The man bowed stiffly and limped out.
"This case is becoming positively fascinatin'," murmured Vance, relaxing once more upon the davenport.
"It's comforting to know that some one's enjoying it." Markham's tone was irritable. "And what, may I ask, was the object of your question concerning Jessup's sentiments toward the dead woman?"
"Oh, just a vagrant notion struggling in my brain," returned Vance. "And then, y' know, a bit of boudoir racontage always enlivens a situation, what?"
Heath, rousing himself from gloomy abstraction, spoke up.
"We've still got the finger-prints, Mr. Markham. And I'm thinking that they're going to locate our man for us."
"But even if Dubois does identify those prints," said Markham, "we'll have to show how the owner of them got into this place last night. He'll claim, of course, they were made prior to the crime."
"Well, it's a sure thing," declared Heath stubbornly, "that there was some man in here last night when Odell got back from the theatre, and that he was still here until after the other man left at half past eleven. The woman's screams and the answering of that phone call at twenty minutes to twelve prove it. And since Doc Doremus said that the murder took place before midnight, there's no getting away from the fact that the guy who was hiding in here did the job."
