Stamped on the handle was the C with which all the Cloisters tools were marked. Jim took it up to Andy, who recognized it at once.

“I’ve missed it,” he said. “And where would you be finding it, Mr. Conway?”

“In the cemetery,” said Jim grimly, and took it away.

It was toward the end of the week that I had a visitor.

I was in my office, checking the house bills, when I saw Larry Hamilton outside in the grounds. Roger was making a fuss over him, leaping up to put his big paws on his shoulders. My desk faced the open window, and Larry saw me and came toward me.

“Hello,” he said. “Any chance to talk to you? I sneaked in, but somebody’s likely to put me out any minute.”

“I think the door’s open into the hall here. Come on in.”

As usual I welcomed any interruption to my work. He came in, and I gave him a cigarette and took one myself. He was a good-looking boy, perhaps twenty-five but seeming younger. I know that I felt like his mother that day, for he was evidently unhappy and certainly nervous.

“All right,” I said briskly. “I don’t suppose you sneaked in here just because you can’t keep away from me. Let’s have it, Larry.”

He looked as if he wanted to bolt, but he only got up and walking to the window, stood looking out of it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said jerkily. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all, but I’ve been scared stiff. It’s about Audrey and Tony Wainwright.”

I confess to a feeling of shock. That had seemed to be over, if it had ever really existed. Now here it was again.

“I suppose you know I’m crazy about her,” he said, his voice shaking. “I have been ever since we were kids. And I’m afraid I’ve started something. It’s all over the place anyhow.”

“What’s all over the place?”

It did not seem so important as he told it, although it was disagreeable enough. Briefly, one of the first things Don Morgan had done when he came home was to forbid Audrey to go about with Tony.

“He had heard Tony was married, and Audrey says he threw a fit. He sent for Tony, and I guess there was a row. You know Tony. He gets pretty mad. Well, Audrey told about it. You know how she is. She talks first and thinks later. But the rest is my fault.”

“What rest?” I asked impatiently.

“About Mr. Morgan and Bessie Wainwright.”

“Mr. Morgan and Bessie Wainwright? What on earth do you mean, Larry?”

“I saw them out together one night,” he said doggedly. “It was pretty late, but I saw him, and it looked like Bessie’s car.”

I was stunned. “Have you told anybody?”

“Well, that’s the trouble,” he admitted. “I was pretty sore; him pretending to be sick, with Audrey carrying his meals to him and everything. Then he rides around at night with a woman. I told some fellows at the club, and now everybody knows it. There’s a lot of talk. You see”—he stopped, then floundered on—“Tony wasn’t at the dance all the time, the night Mr. Morgan was killed. Neither was Bessie. She was seen coming this way about eleven o’clock, and Tony was following her. At least that’s the story.”