And Detective Gibbs did retire and did make his call some other time, but he made it not on Miss Prall, but on Mrs Everett.

He had fancied from her attitude that he could learn much from her if he could manage to gain her attention and enlist her sympathies.

With this end in view he went to see her later the same day, and found her not unwilling to talk with him.

"I thought I should die," she exclaimed, clasping her plump little hands and rocking back and forth in a becushioned wicker chair, "to see Letitia Prall wriggle around! Why, Mr Gibbs, it's clear to be seen she knows more than she has told or means to tell! Aren't you going to make her talk?"

"Why do you think she knows something?" countered the detective.

"Oh, I know her so well. When she purses up her thin lips and then widens them out to a straight line again, several times in succession, that's a sure sign she's terribly upset. Didn't you notice her do that? It's a peculiar habit, and I know what it means! Letitia Prall was nearly frantic for fear you'd find out something she doesn't want you to know!"

"Now, mother," interposed Dorcas, who was present, "I don't think you ought to say such things about Miss Prall,—this is a serious matter, and talking to a detective is very different from your every-day spats and squabbles with Miss Letty."

"Hold your tongue, Dorcas; and you'd better leave the room. This is no subject for a young girl to be mixed up in. Go to Kate and let her fit your new guimpe."

"I'm just ready to try it on," and Kate, the maid, appeared in the doorway, her mouth full of pins, and her hands full of voluminous breadths of tulle.

"But I'd like to hear what this man has to say," she went on, dropping her work on a table as she took a chair for herself. "I know a thing or two about this murder," she declared, as she looked curiously at Gibbs, "and it would be to your advantage, sir, to listen to my tale."

"Oh, nonsense," put in Mrs Everett, "you don't know anything, Kate. She's a visionary creature, Mr Gibbs, and greatly given to romancing."

"Nothing of the sort," spoke up Kate, briskly, and Gibbs wondered at the strange apparent relation between mistress and servant.

But as he listened further, he gathered that Kate had been so long the stay and dependence of the Everett household, that her position was more that of a housekeeper and general manager than an underling.

It seemed that Mrs Everett depended on the woman for service, yet was chummy with her as with a companion. Kate sewed for Dorcas and kept her clothing in order, looked after Mrs Everett's social engagements and was useful in so many ways that it was not difficult to see why she was made much of by her employer.

Then, too, it was clear that she was entirely conversant with the feud, its progress and present condition. She was deeply interested in the murder mystery and, though Gibbs rather doubted it, she might have something of importance to tell him.

So, as Dorcas obeyed her mother and left the room, the detective listened to the chatter of the two women, and from the volume of inconsequent talk he gleaned much of interest.

Especially he learned the character of Miss Prall, or, rather, the traits of her character that interested the Everett household.

Their tales may have been exaggerated, probably were, but he decided they contained internal evidence of Letitia's insincerity and untruthfulness.

He found out to his own conviction that he could not rely implicitly on the word of Miss Prall, and, this granted, her whole story might fall to the ground.

The feud was talked over and detailed to him until he was positively sick of it, but he persevered in the talk, trying to lead it toward the murder.

But the women were wary of this subject. Whether it was too grewsome for their taste or whether there was some other reason, Gibbs tried hard to find out.

"But you told me you had something to communicate," he insisted, to the canny-looking Kate.

Her sharp eyes scrutinized him.

"Oh, I don't know anything definite," she said, with a somewhat defiant glance at Mrs Everett. "And if I did, I'm not allowed to tell it."

"If you know anything at all,—definite or suggestive, you're to tell it, whether you're allowed or not!" Gibbs cried, willing to try intimidation. "Don't you know, woman, that you can be jailed if you withhold information from the police?"

Mrs Everett giggled. "You can't frighten Kate," she said; "she has no fear of anything."

"Why should I have?" and Kate looked belligerent. "I know all about the police. I'll tell anything I see fit to, and nothing more."

Calmly, she took up the mass of white tulle, and began to sew on it.

"That attitude won't do, Kate," said Gibbs, seriously. "Bluff and bravado won't get you anywhere."

"I don't want to get anywhere; I haven't set out for anywhere," and with a flippant swish of the tulle stuff, Kate rose and started to leave the room.

"Wait a minute," ordered Gibbs. "You've gone too far to back out now. You said, or implied, you had something to tell,—now, you tell it!"

"Goodness, Kate, tell it,—if you've anything to tell!" Mrs Everett spoke with a sharp glance at the woman.

"Well, I will, then. But it's no tale of happenings or that. It's only that I know Miss Prall was wishing Mr Binney out of the way. She was wishing it so hard that I myself heard her say, 'If I was sure I wouldn't get caught, I'd kill him myself!'"

"She said that?"

"Yes, sir, she did. Mrs Everett heard her, too."

"I did," admitted Mrs Everett as Gibbs looked at her inquiringly. "But don't take it too seriously. Letitia Prall and I are enemies, have been for years,—but I'm not the one to brand her with the mark of Cain! That I'm not."

"Well, I will," declared Kate. "She's quite capable of it, she has expressed her willingness, and she had strong motive. What more do you want?"

"What was her motive?" asked Gibbs in a casual tone, hoping to draw further light on these remarkable statements.

"Why,——" Kate hesitated, but Mrs Everett smiled and nodded permission, and Kate went on; "why, you see Miss Dorcas and young Mr Bates are friendly-like, and old Binney——"

"Sir Herbert," prompted Mrs Everett, pointedly.

"Well, Sir Herbert, then, he was in favor of the two marrying."

"And neither Mrs Everett nor Miss Prall approve the match?" Gibbs put in quickly.

"Of course they don't! Well, Miss Prall, she's one who would try and try to persuade Sir Herbert to change his mind——"

"And his will," suggested Gibbs.

"And his will," agreed Kate, "and then, when she couldn't persuade him,—he had the devil's own stubbornness,——"

"And so has she," observed Mrs Everett.

"That's right! Well, when she couldn't do anything with him, she up and killed him."

"Women, he wrote."

"Of course; Eliza Gurney helped. Probably Eliza did the actual deed. She'd cut off anybody's head that Letitia Prall told her to! But those are the women you're looking for, and if you want to jail me for telling you, go ahead!"

"No," Gibbs told her, "you won't be jailed for telling that,—if it's true. But, if it isn't,—you want to be careful about slander, you know."

Kate looked a little startled, but Mrs Everett laughed.

"Don't be afraid, Kate; Mr. Gibbs can't punish you for an opinion. You haven't stated any facts."

"Except that she heard Miss Prall's threat to kill Sir Herbert," Gibbs reminded her.

"It wasn't a threat at all. I heard her say it, and it was merely an outburst of anger. I doubt if she meant it——"

"Do you doubt her capable of committing such a crime?" the detective asked, so suddenly that he took his listener by surprise.

But she was not to be caught. "My theory is," she smiled, "that as Goethe says, 'We are all capable of crime, even the best of us.' I truly think that most human beings could commit crime, given sufficient motive and opportunity."

"All very fine in theory," said Gibbs, smiling, "but are you willing to assert that Miss Prall or—or yourself, would be capable of the murder of Sir Herbert Binney, if you had a perfect opportunity and if you considered your motive strong enough?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have done it!" and Mrs Everett looked shocked, indeed, "but,—well, maybe I do think Letitia Prall would have done it."

"Aided and abetted by Miss Gurney," the detective egged her on.

"Yes; Eliza would have been not only a help but a commander,—a tyrant, even."

"And Miss Gurney wished the old gentleman out of the way?"

"Oh, yes; as much, perhaps, as Letitia. You see, if he died just now, his fortune would be young Bates' and the boy could go on with his chosen career, without being pestered to make buns! Moreover, Sir Herbert favored Rickey's marriage——"

"To your daughter?"

"To anybody,—any nice young woman. My daughter is out of the question and not to be spoken of in this connection."

Mrs Everett drew herself up in with an effect of injured dignity and looked scornfully at Gibbs.

"But you seem to eliminate the young people themselves as factors in the romance part of it all."

"They are not factors. My daughter has sufficient confidence in my judgment to agree to my advice. She knows my attitude toward Miss Prall and she would not encourage or accept the attentions of her nephew."

"You're sure of this?"

"Of course I'm sure of it! Dorcas is a sweet, obedient child, and she would not deceive her loving and beloved mother. Also, she knows the despicable and unworthy nature of Miss Prall, and she assumes, as I do, that Richard is of the same stamp."

"Then you don't know the young man? You only assume his character? Is that quite fair?"

"Fair enough for anybody belonging to the Prall family! They cannot expect fairness! They wouldn't even appreciate it! Letitia Prall is a mean, low type of womanhood,—a deceitful, unjust, disloyal, contemptible snake in the grass!"

"That's so," chimed in Kate; "she's proved all that over and over,—and more too! She has no notion of common decency toward her neighbors; she is a two-faced, backbiting, sneaky, tattletale!"

"But this doesn't prove young Bates——"

"Yes, it does!" the detective's argument was cut off; "she brought him up, and she taught him all her own evil principles, and her own way of thinking and talking——"

"But you scarcely know the man,——"

"That's doesn't matter! He's the nephew of Letitia Prall,—and that's enough for me! My daughter shall never speak to him,—never meet him,—and lest such a chance should occur accidentally, I am planning to move away."

"You don't think your daughter is—is interested in Mr Bates?"

"I know she is not! Dorcas is a wayward-tempered child, but she is loyal to her mother and her mother's wishes. She wouldn't dream of seeing Richard Bates against my will."

Now, as it happened at that very moment, the loyal child was apparently quite oblivious of the wishes of her beloved mother, for she was sitting by the side of the objurgated Richard on a bench in Central Park.

When told to leave the room by her mother, she had also left the Everett apartment, and later, the house.

By some discreet telephoning she had summoned the despised young man and the two had sauntered out of The Campanile, separately, and joined company soon after.

"It's a risk," Dorcas was saying, "and if mother, catches on, she'll give me Hail Columbia, but I just had to see you! Do you know what they're saying about your uncle's murder, now?"

"No; and I don't want to hear from you. Please, dear, let's leave all that horror out of our conversation. We get so few moments together and I need every one of them to tell you how I love you."

"Then," the red lips pouted, "when am I to tell you how much I love you?"

"Oh, Dork! you do say the sweetest things! Tell me, darling, tell me, first, then I'll tell you——"

"We may as well both talk at once," Dorcas laughed. "We can say the same things,—it'll really be a duet!"

"All right, say with me,—I love you. Ready, one, two, three, go!"

"I love you!" they said in concert.

"No fun," decided Dorcas; "I want you to tell me separately."

So Richard did, to such an extent and with so much detail and reiteration that the moments flew by, and it was time to go home before the other side of the shield was painted.

"But, Ricky, dear," Dorcas said finally, "I must talk a little about this awful thing. I've heard a lot of hints and whispers,—for mother and Kate shut up as soon as I come into the room,—and I want to know this: Is your aunt, Miss Prall, suspected of killing Sir Herbert?"

"Good Lord, no! What an awful idea! Where did you dig that up?"

"I've heard a lot, I tell you. And some people do think so!"

"But it's absurd! Impossible! Also, I won't have such talk going around! You must tell me, Dork, where you heard it! Tell me all you know."

"I don't know anything, Rick, but I think you ought to do something definite in the way of detective work. Those men don't get anywhere?"

"Why, what do you mean? What do you know about that, Little Peachbloom?"

"I don't know anything. And you don't, either. But unless you find out something there'll be trouble. Now, Rick, stop treating me as a baby and talk about it. Who do you think killed him?"

"Honestly, Dorrie, I think, just as he wrote, some women did it. I don't know who they were, and I'm not sure I care to know,—for they were, no doubt, some—some people with whom we have no concern."

"That may be," said the girl, very soberly, "and it may not be. You must realize, Rick, that those silly little chorus girls might have had reason to hate the man, but they could scarcely compass that killing."

Bates looked at her in astonishment.

"What do you mean?" he said, slowly; "that is, what are you hinting?"

"Only that I think the murderers are of a higher type of women than giddy youngsters,——"

"Murderers can't be of a very high type——"

"I don't mean high type of character, but of brains. To my mind, that deed implies women of cleverness and mental power."

"Such as,——?"

"Oh, I don't know. But girls in our house are all older and wiser than a lot of giddy chorus girls. Why not suspect them?"

"Why suspect anybody? I mean, what do we care? In one sense, I'd like to see the death of Uncle Herbert avenged, but on the other hand I'd hate to see women's names dragged through the police court——"

"But if they were guilty?"

"That's just the point! Ten chances to one they wouldn't be. I mean those dunder-headed detectives are quite capable of getting the wrong ones and then railroading them through."

"Perhaps so. But I think you ought to do more than you have done. Why, Rick,—if,—if you don't, first thing you know they'll suspect you!"

"What! Don't be foolish, dear. I'm not a woman."

"I know, but some people think that's a blind,——"

"It can't be a blind. There's Uncle Bin's writing,—and I know him well enough to be sure that with his dying breath he didn't write anything but the truth. No, sir, women are responsible for that murder, and directly, too. Uncle Bin never flung that accusation at women if they were merely implicated. Now, don't you see, dear, that investigation must result in tragedy for some women,—and, as I say,—probably not the guilty ones."

"But it must be fastened on the guilty ones. They must be found——"

Dorcas' red lower lip quivered, and the big tears gathered in her eyes. She strove to keep her calmness but she was rapidly losing control over her emotions.

"Why, Dorrie, darling, what is it? Tell me,—I'll do whatever you want,—whatever you say! Do you know something you haven't told me? Something you don't want to tell me? What is the matter, dearest?"

"That's it; I do know something,—or I fear something, I don't want to tell you,—at least not yet,—but——Rick, let's do something, you and me,—toward solving the mystery."

"Oh, no, dear. Please don't mix your own sweet self into this horrid moil. I'll do what you tell me to, but don't dip into the trouble yourself,—I beg of you, don't!"

"Richard," and Dorcas stood up, her face taking on a determined look, "come on home with me, and go with me to talk to a woman,—one of the maids of the house. Don't interfere,—don't even interrupt, just stand by me, and be ready if I call on you for help."

Bewildered, and not entirely willing, Bates consented and the two went back to The Campanile.

Unhindered by any message from Dorcas' mother or Richard's aunt, they went up in the elevator and on one of the highest floors, Dorcas sought out the head chambermaid's office.

"I want to know about Maggie and Jane," she said, straightforwardly. "Maggie is our chambermaid, and Jane is a friend of hers. I have a reason, that I don't wish to state at present, but I ask you frankly if those two girls are honest and reliable?"

The woman addressed hesitated.

"They are, miss, so far as I know. But I think it's my duty to tell you, that I've heard other whispers of complaint. We're very particular about the help in this house, and I can't keep any girl on, who's even so much as suspected. Have you any definite complaint to make, Miss Everett?"

"There, you see," broke in Bates. "You mustn't harm those girls' reputation by a vague suspicion, Dorcas. If you know anything against them, that's one thing. But a hint goes so far, and it may be against an innocent girl."

"I know it," Dorcas looked very earnest, "so I ask you, Mrs Malone, not to mention this. But tell me, where were those two girls the night of the murder of Sir Herbert Binney?"

"Oh, that!" and Mrs Malone looked greatly relieved. "They were in their own beds asleep,—both of them. That I can swear to. I thought you meant they'd been dishonest,—stealing something."

"No, I didn't," said Dorcas, frankly. "I really wanted to know just what I asked. Will you forget it,—since you've answered me as you have?"

"Yes, indeed, miss," the woman agreed, her decision influenced perhaps by the bill that was quietly slipped into her not unready hand.

"Well, I must say," and Bates looked at his companion as they went slowly along the hall to the elevator, "you did stir up a tempest without even a teapot! What's the big idea?"

"Don't speak like that, Rick," Dorcas implored. "Try to see things as I do. Or must I tell you right out that if there's no chorus girl, no chambermaid, no elevator girl to fasten suspicion on, it is going to be fastened on some one else. Can't you guess who?"

"That I can't," and Bates looked blankly at her. "Do you mean some of Uncle Bin's English people came over here and did for him?"

"I do not. I mean that there are people who will think,—who are already thinking there's reason to direct their inquiries toward—toward your aunt."

Bates stared; "Aunt Letitia?" he said, half understandingly; "she didn't do it."

"I don't think she did!" Dorcas was irritated at his bewilderment. "But I tell you the detectives think so!"

"Oh, Dork, what awful rot! Dear child, you must keep out of this affair. It makes you crazy."

"I'm not crazy! But you're blind. I tell you, Rick, the detectives do suspect Miss Prall,—I heard them tell mother so,—and you must wake up and look into things."

"I should say so!" Bates seemed to get awake all at once. "You heard this, Dorcas? I'm glad you told me. Go home, dear, and I'll look up Gibbs or Corson at once!"