Late that night,—in fact it was about midnight, when the onyx lobby was practically deserted save for an occasional late home-comer,—the two detectives arrived for a confab with Bob Moore.

This greatly pleased the night porter for he hoped to be looked upon as a sort of assistant detective, and felt sure he could be of valuable help.

"You know, Moore," Gibbs began, "there are people who are looking askance at you, with a sort of half-formed suspicion that you know more about this thing than you have told. But I don't think that,—at least, I think you are willing to tell all you know, if you haven't already done so. How about it?"

"Why, it's this way, Mr Gibbs. I am ready to tell all I know, and I think I have done so, but you can't expect me to tell what I suspect or surmise or imagine. Can you, now? It might lose my place for me. Also, I might injure an innocent person."

"I think," spoke up Corson, "you ought to tell us anything you suspect; it need go no further and if your suspicions are mistaken ones, they can't harm the innocent."

"Well, then, I've got my eye on two of the chambermaids. They are great chums, and one is on the seventh and eighth floors, the other on the ninth and tenth. But floors don't matter; they chum around with each other. Well, these two are the most canny old hens you ever knew. They're no chickens, and they have an eye out for the main chance all the time. I mean they toady to the people who are rich or generous and they scamp their work in places where they're not 'remembered.' Also they're specially attentive to the work of gentlemen who live alone. Why, Sir Herbert's rooms were kept as neat as a bandbox. And Mr Goodwin and Mr Vail,—they're both up on the tenth,—their rooms are immaculate. And yet, there's the Prall place neglected, 'cause Miss Prall don't believe much in fees, and as for the Everetts, why, she says she can't get anything tended to!"

"Doesn't she 'remember' the housemaid, either?"

"Some; but in her case, it's more her sharp tongue and her fussy ways. Miss Prall, now, she's on the outs with Mrs Everett,—I know that,—but she's decent-spoken to the maids. Only, she's stingy. Well, what I'm getting at is, those two chambermaids are regular devils, if you ask me, and though Sir Herbert Binney was generous enough when he liked the work people, he didn't like his chambermaid, and he was as ugly as Cain to her. Used to call her down for the least thing and laid her out cold if she sauced him back."

"Then you think the 'women' might have referred to these two maids?"

"That's just it. I only think it may have done so. I've no evidence except that they are more the type of women it seems possible to suspect. These little girls,—it don't seem's if they could manage the deed. But Jane and Maggie could have worked it if they'd wanted to. They're big, husky women and they've dogged, sullen tempers. And, of course, what made me think most about it, was your finding that paper-knife of Miss Prall's. Now, if Miss Prall had killed Binney,—which is ridiculous on the face of it!—she'd been too cute to leave the knife around, but those ignorant chambermaids——"

"I don't agree," Corson interrupted. "The woman,—which one is the Prall's chambermaid?"

"Maggie."

"Well, Maggie then,—she couldn't have taken the knife from Miss Prall's table without its being missed, and Miss Letitia is not the one to lose her property without a word! No, sir, that paper-knife points straight to Letitia Prall. Moreover, she had motive; she wanted the old gentleman out of the way for two reasons. First, so Pet Nephew could inherit the old man's money, and, second, because the uncle was in favor of the marriage of young Bates with Miss Everett, the daughter of Miss Prall's deadly enemy!"

"Where'd you get all that dope, Corson?" Gibbs said in astonishment.

"Partly by quizzing round and partly by putting two and two together. Anyway, it's all true, the motives, I mean. Now, confidentially, just among us three here, could she have done it? I mean, was it physically possible?"

"Anything is possible for Miss Prall," said Moore, quite seriously. "She is a Tartar, that lady is. And whatever she sets out to do, she does,—irrespective of whether it can be done or not!"

"I mean this. Could she have come downstairs from the eighth floor without being seen——"

"Of course she must have been seen," broke in Moore. "Whether she came down in the elevator or walked down the stairs she must have been seen. She could have come down the servants' stairs, but that would have been even more conspicuous."

"At two in the morning?"

"No; there'd probably be no servants around then."

"So she could have done that, and waited, say, outside,——"

"Oh, nonsense! Waited out in the street at that hour?" Gibbs demurred; "that's too much to swallow!"

"But she may have known just about the hour Sir Binney expected to return. Anyway, suppose she did do that, and then, having succeeded, she slipped back to the servants' entrance and hid the knife where it was found and then scuttled back upstairs the way she came."

"But the paper said, 'women,'" mused Moore.

"That companion person was with her," declared Corson, triumphantly. "Those two are great in team-work. Miss Gurney doubtless acted as scout and kept a lookout and Miss Prall did the deed."

"Oh, Mr Corson, I can't think it!" exclaimed Moore.

"Because you know Miss Prall only as a tenant of this house. You know nothing of what she may be capable of when her spirit is fired. And as far as I'm concerned, it's far easier to believe that she did it, than that it was the work of some foolish little girls scarcely out of their teens! Miss Prall is not only a strong-minded woman, and a strong-muscled woman, but she has a strong personality with practically illimitable powers of loving and hating. For her the sun rises and sets in young Bates, and in the other direction she is all wrapped up in her hatred of Mrs Everett.

"What's Mrs Everett got to do with the murder?" growled Moore.

"Nothing, that I know of, but she works in this way. Her daughter is in love with Richard Bates, and neither of the women will stand for the marriage of the two young people. Why, I think Mrs Everett and Miss Prall would see their young charges dead rather than married to one another. Now, Sir Herbert Binney favored the match. Therefore Miss Prall wanted him out of the way. Again, he favored young Bates going into the Bun business instead of sticking to his inventions. Therefore, again, Miss Prall wanted Binney out of the way. So, what would a woman of her caliber and her determination do, but put him out of the way?"

"Plausible enough," and Gibbs thought deeply.

"And so, I'm asking Moore," Corson went on, "how he thinks Miss Prall could have compassed her awful plan and he's solved any uncertainty by suggesting the servants' staircase at an hour so late that it was almost certain to be unused."

"I don't say I believe she did do it," Moore began, "but I have to say she could have done it that way. She must have known just about the time he'd come home——"

"That's not difficult to assume," Corson defended his theory, "he probably told her that. And she could have waited around some time,—it was a mild night."

"But how could she be sure she'd have the chance in the lobby?" asked Gibbs, his incredulity fast dwindling.

"Oh, she wasn't sure. She took a chance. I mean, she may have waylaid him outside, don't you see, and kept him there talking until she saw Moore go up in the elevator with somebody. This place is so brightly lighted that any one outside could see that. Or they could have been inside, standing in the shadow of the big pillars for a long time,—unnoticed."

"Have you any clews?" asked Bob Moore of the detectives.

"Dropped handkerchiefs and such like?" asked Gibbs, mockingly. "No; and if there were footprints, they're washed away now. But those things are only for story-books,—such as you're eternally reading, Moore."

"I do read a lot of 'em, and it's astonishing, but most always a criminal leaves some trace."

"In the stories,—yes. In real life, they're not so obliging. But let's look at the spot. We might get an idea,—if nothing more tangible."

The three went along the lobby till they reached the place where Sir Herbert had breathed his last. Marks had been drawn to indicate the blood spots that were so quickly washed off, and these still showed clearly. The body had been found crumpled on the floor, in the angle made by the great square base of an onyx pillar and the wall.

They saw, of course, no traces of any personality, but as they looked each began to reconstruct the scene mentally.

"I think they were concealed here for some time," Corson said. "If they stood here talking, the pillar would partly shield them from view of others entering. Nor could they be easily seen by Moore, in the back of the lobby."

"Maybe," Moore agreed hesitantly, "but if Miss Prall and Sir Herbert had come in together I bet I'd seen 'em."

"Not if you were up in the elevator," said Corson.

"No; of course not. That might have been the case."

"And then, when you took Mr Vail up, was no doubt the moment she chose to stab him and immediately pulled out the knife and ran away."

"We know," said Moore, positively, "that whoever did it, did it while I took Mr Vail up, and that the murderer then pulled out the knife and ran away. But that's not saying it was Miss Prall. And I've got to have some sort of evidence before I'll believe it was. Her desire to be rid of Sir Herbert isn't enough, to my mind, to indicate that she killed him. Can you tie it onto her any more definitely?"

"Her ownership of the knife, and her making no effort to find it, though missing, are evidence enough for me," said Corson doggedly. "And, how'd those little chorus chickens get it, if they're the ones?"

"I don't think they're the ones," Moore declared; "but I do think it was those two chambermaids. They could get the knife from the Prall apartment easy enough, and maybe Miss Prall did question Maggie about the missing knife and maybe Maggie gave a plausible explanation for its disappearance."

"Maybe and maybe and maybe not!" observed Gibbs, cryptically. "This sort of talk gets us no-where——"

"Yes it does," Corson interrupted. "It's shown us how Miss Prall could have done it. And when you remember that Sir Herbert declared with his dying heartbeats that women did it, and when we have no other women with half as much motive,—those little girls' jealousies are puerile by comparison,—I think we are bound to conclude we're on the right track."

"If so, let's forge ahead," and Gibbs nodded energetically. "What's the next move?"

"Don't move too fast," advised his colleague. "And, too, we want to interview those chambermaids. Though I think Miss Prall is at the back of the thing, she may have been aided by those women. They might have been paid——"

"Now, look here," put in Moore. "I know Miss Prall better than you two do. And I know if she undertook a thing of this desperate nature, she never called in any outside help. She'd be afraid to trust those women. And that companion of hers is all the help she'd want. No, sir, if the women Sir Binney recognized were Miss Prall and Miss Gurney, that's all there was of them. Likewise, if it was those two chambermaids, that's all there was of them. But they never combined forces; no, sir, they didn't!"

"I believe that." Gibbs nodded his head. "Now, let's take a look at this paper again."

The paper left by the dying man had been carefully placed between two small panes of glass, in order to keep it intact and undefaced.

As Gibbs studied the passe-partout, he said, thoughtfully, "We must make up our minds what he meant in this second line. It's unintelligible, but what could he have meant? 'Get bo——'"

"I think it means get both," said Corson, positively; "but it mayn't be that at all. As it was the very last effort of his spent muscles, it is far from likely that he wrote just what he meant to write. He might have intended that second letter for a or o or g or, in fact, almost any letter! He lost control of his fingers and the pencil fell away from them."

"All right; I grant you all that," Gibbs agreed. "But we've got to start somewhere. Now we know women killed him; he states that. Next, if this word is both, we know there were two women and two only."

"Marvelous, Holmes, marvelous!" guyed Corson. "And Miss Prall and Miss Gurney count up just two! Correct, so far."

"Don't be funny. The chambermaids in question number two also. And there were most likely only two, for women don't go round murdering in squads. But the point is, he says, get both,—if the word is both. That would seem to imply that one is more probable as a suspect than the other, but he adjures us to get the other one also."

"There's something to that, Mr Gibbs," and Bob Moore looked at the detective admiringly. "Now, if it was a case of Miss Prall and Miss Gurney, they're so much together, that such a message would be practically unnecessary. So it may point to the chambermaids. You see, Maggie is on his floor, but he may have meant that Jane, too, was implicated."

"Oh, rubbish!" cried Corson. "A dying man isn't going to use his last gasp to tell the police to get a certain chambermaid! That word isn't 'both' at all. It's something far more significant. I think it's a name. I think it's a name that begins with Ba or Bo. Now, I'm as well aware as you two men are, that my own name begins with Bo and my girl's last name with Ba. But I'm not afraid, for I didn't do it. I was upstairs at the time, and anyway I'd no grudge against the old fellow. Nor did Julie do it. And he never would have called her Baxter, if she had! So, I say that I think it represents some name, and all possible names ought to be investigated."

"The trouble is it might represent so many names," Gibbs said. "I think myself that he might have meant to make a capital letter and only achieved a small one, but never mind that. Ba could be Babe Russell,—but I can't seem to think he'd take that method of accusation. If it had been a man who killed him he would be more likely to feel revengeful."

"Good heavens, Gibbs!" and Corson's eyes opened wide; "I guess if you'd just been fatally stabbed by your lady friends, and had enough spunk to tell that women killed you, you wouldn't hesitate at bringing a name into the limelight! I've had a hunch it was that Baby Doll all along,—but it looked like an impossibility."

"So you see," offered Bob Moore, "you can't deduce much from that second line. And we may be 'way off. It might have been meant for, 'Get busy' or 'Get Bob Moore to find the criminal,' or lots of things."

"This is no time for fooling, Moore," said Corson, gravely, "but you're right that it's wasting time to puzzle over that phase of the message. We're lucky in having the clear direction as to the sex of the criminal,——"

"Unless it's all faked," suggested Gibbs. "How about the murderer being a clever man, who had this paper all ready, and brought it with him and laid it beside his victim?"

"Not a chance," said Moore. "I've checked up that handwriting and it's his. Mr Bates says so, and I've compared it to his writing,—lots of it. That's Sir Binney's fist, all right."

Feeling they had learned all they could from Moore, and also feeling decidedly tired and sleepy, the two detectives went home and to bed.

Not at once to sleep, however, for each had lots of thinking to do and each felt that there were more ways to look than had yet appeared.

But, also, each thought the Prall suspicion justified, and each planned to keep a wary eye in that direction.

Next morning, after waiting till such an hour as he thought late enough, Gibbs went to see Miss Prall.

He found a visitor already there, and he was presented to Mrs Everett.

To his surprise, Miss Prall made the introduction as casually as if it had been a meeting of social acquaintances, and Gibbs felt a little awkward at being expected to join in a general conversation.

But he was alertly interested in meeting Mrs Everett, and especially in circumstances where he might hear or see some manifestations of the feud he had heard of.

"My friend, Mrs Everett, is about to move away, so you're lucky to chance upon her here," Miss Letitia said, in honey-sweet tones.

"As to your luck, I express no opinion," said the other lady, "but as to moving away, I've not the slightest intention of such a thing."

Mrs Everett was inclined to be fair, afraid of being fat and unwilling to admit being forty. She was pretty in a soft, faded way, and her voice, though low and pleasant, had a sharp tang to it, which, one felt sure, could increase at will.

"You said you would!" Miss Prall declared, "but I long ago learned to put no faith in your assertions."

"You're saying I lie?" asked Mrs Everett, and her voice was still placid.

"If the shoe fits, put it on," Letitia laughed. "Only, you can't blame me for saying that of you, when you know it's the truth."

"Dear friend," murmured Mrs Everett, "how can you think I'd go off and leave you while you're in such trouble? I feel I must stand by."

"That's quite like you! Don't lose a chance to gloat over any sorrow or grief I may have!"

"Do you call it sorrow and grief? I didn't know you thought so much of the departed nobleman—he was a nobleman, wasn't he? Tut, tut, Letitia! and at your time of life! Well, I suppose it's habit that makes you set your cap for any man you chance to meet."

"You always were the greatest for judging others by yourself, Adeline. You were the celebrated cap-setter of your day. Ever since you worried poor, dear Mr Everett into his untimely grave, you've pursued the honorable business of cap-setting, alas! to no avail."

"Don't you dare call my husband dear! I'll let you know, Letitia Prall, he was not in the habit of calling you dear!"

"Tee hee," tittered Eliza Gurney. "Don't be jealous of Letty, Mrs Everett. She's had more beaux than you ever saw, with all your yellow curls and red—a little too red cheeks!"

"Hush, Eliza," admonished Miss Prall, "our caller will think we're quarrelsome neighbors. As a matter of fact, Mr Gibbs, we're——"

"Dearest enemies?" he suggested, smiling, for he saw he was expected to recognize the situation.

"Yes," assented Letitia with a nod at Mrs Everett that seemed to convey all sorts of inimical intent, undiluted by friendliness.

Gibbs realized that these two women took such pleasure in their bickerings and faultfindings that they really enjoyed their antagonism.

And Miss Eliza Gurney was equally interested in the exchange of sarcastic repartee.

They kept on with their sparring until Gibbs began to feel not only uncomfortable but impatient.

"I called, Miss Prall," he began, but Mrs Everett interrupted:

"Oh, I know what for," she cried, clasping her fat hands, and giving an unpleasant little giggle, "to talk about the murder! Yes, yes, and please don't mind me. I want to hear the details; have you found out who did it? Who was it? Was it those sweet little dancing girlies? I can't think it!"

"Keep quiet, Adeline," said Miss Prall; "how you do run on! I should think you'd have the tact to take your leave,—but you never had even ordinary good manners. I can scarcely invite you to depart, but I do feel privileged to say you may go if you feel you must."

"Oh, I don't feel I must at all! On the contrary, I want to stay and hear the news. For I'm sure this gentleman has some news. I can see it sticking out all over him! Go ahead, sir, tell your story. I feel I'm entitled to be in the audience."

She settled herself in her chair and looked as if nothing less than a really severe earthquake would move her. Her big round eyes danced from Letitia's face to the detective's. Her smile broadened as she enjoyed the discomfiture of her enforced hostess. And she positively reveled in the awkward and embarrassed silence that fell on all in the room.

Then Eliza Gurney said, "Adeline Everett, if you take my advice, you'll go away before you're put out!"

"I've never taken your advice yet, Eliza, and I don't propose to begin now. Also, you'd better not put me out, for if you do, I shall think that what Mr Gibbs is about to reveal is something you don't want known,—something incriminating to some of your own people!"

Apparently she had heard something, Gibbs thought quickly, and he was more than ever anxious to get her away. But, not knowing how to manage such an unusual type of womankind, he said instead that he thought he should retire and make his call some other time.