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Finch muttered something to the flunky, who looked grieved, shut the door, and vanished. Mrs. Gimball sat down angrily, with pursed lips, as if she wanted to say something nasty but did not quite know what. Jones glowered at Andrea, and Andrea kept looking at the floor. She was no longer pale. As for Bill, he suddenly became conscious of his feet. He shuffled them about and looked miserable. “Just what,” asked Ellery quietly, “were you intending to discuss with Miss Gimball, Bill?”

Bill shook his head. “That’s up to Miss Gimball. I have nothing to say.” Andrea gave him a shy, queerly pained little glance.

“It seems to me,” observed Ellery after a moment of strained silence, “that I shall have to do the talking, after all. I should have preferred listening. You’ve both acted very oddly — you, Miss Gimball, and you, Bill. Childishly, when it comes to that.” Bill flushed. “Shall I tell you what happened? On Saturday night, while I was examining the rug in the shack, your eye happened to catch sight of something imbedded in the nap which glittered. You put your foot over it. When you thought no one was looking, you pretended to tie your shoelace and picked it up. I was watching, and I saw it. It was a large cut diamond of at least six carats.”

Bill stirred, and Andrea uttered a little gasp. Jones’s skin was gray again, his cheekbones tight with wrath. “I thought—” began Bill in a mutter.

“You thought you were unobserved. But, you see, Bill,” said Ellery gently, “it’s part of my training to see everything, and part of my creed not to permit friendship to stand in the way of the truth. You didn’t know whose diamond it was, but you were afraid to say anything about it to De Jong because you thought it might in some mysterious way involve Lucy. Then Miss Gimball came, and you saw a ring on her finger with the stone gone. It couldn’t have been coincidence. You realized she must have been in that shack. But, you see, Bill, I noticed it, too.”

Bill laughed a little glumly. “I’m a prize fool, of course. My abject apologies, Ellery.” His shoulders lifted in a secret sign to Andrea, as if to indicate his helplessness. Through her tension and pain she managed a ghost of a smile. Jones saw it, and his thin lips tightened.

“You drew her aside into a shadow,” continued Ellery as if nothing had happened, “and, since there was a convenient shadow adjacent, I exercised the prerogative of outraged friendship and eavesdropped. Shall I go on?”

Andrea made a little sound. Then she suddenly looked up; her eyes were clear. “No need for that any more, Mr. Queen,” she said steadily. “I see how futile it was. I’m not very good at — well, at that sort of thing, I suppose. Thank you, Bill Angell; you’ve been swell.” He flushed again and looked uncomfortable.

“You borrowed my car during the afternoon Saturday,” muttered Burke Jones. “Damn it, Andrea, you’ve got to clear me of that.”

Her eyes were scornful. “Don’t worry, Burke, I shall. Mr. Queen, on Saturday afternoon I received a telegram from — from Joe.”

“Andrea,” said Mrs. Gimball feebly.

“Don’t you think, Andrea,” began Finch in a low voice, “that it’s unwise to—”

Her lids veiled her eyes. “I’ve nothing to conceal, Ducky. I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re all thinking.” She paused. “The telegram asked me to meet him in that shack on an urgent matter. It gave me instructions for getting there. It set the time for nine.”

“I’ll bet it was a duplicate of mine,” muttered Bill.

“I borrowed Burke’s car — we were out during the afternoon and he couldn’t use it. I didn’t tell Burke where I was going.”

“Why don’t you tell them you drove?” growled Jones. “I couldn’t drive with this broken wing.”

“Please, Burke,” she said quietly. “I think Mr. Queen understands that. I got out there early. There was no one there, so I went for a spin, going off toward Camden. When I got back—”

“What time,” asked Ellery, “did you reach there the first time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Eight, perhaps. When—”

“And what time did you reach there the second time?”

She hesitated. “Oh, I don’t remember. It was almost dark. I went inside — there was a light on — and...”

Ellery stirred. “Forgive me for interrupting, Miss Gimball. When you arrived at the shack the second time, you saw nothing suspicious?”

“No, no, nothing.” She said it so quickly that he repressed another question and lit a cigaret. “Nothing at all. I went in and there was Joe. He was on the floor. I thought he was dead. I–I didn’t touch him. I couldn’t. The blood... I suppose I screamed. Then I ran out. I saw another car near the house on the road and grew frightened. I jumped into the Cadillac and drove off. Of course, now I know it was Mr. Angell I almost ran down.” She paused. “That’s all.”

In the silence that followed Burke Jones cleared his throat. There was a new and embarrassed quality to his voice. “Well. Sorry, old girl. If you’d only told me... When you asked me Sunday not to say anything about having taken my car—”

“It was very sweet of you, Burke,” she said coldly. “I’ll always remember your generosity.”

Grosvenor Finch went to her and patted her shoulder. “You’ve been a foolish child, Andrea, as Mr. Queen has said. Why didn’t you confide in me, in your mother? You did nothing wrong. For that matter, Mr. Angell received a telegram and was there, too, without witnesses, and yet you see he had no hesitation...”

Andrea closed her eyes. “I’m very tired. I wonder if—”

“And the stone, Miss Gimball?” asked Ellery casually.

She opened her eyes. “I seem to remember banging my hand against the door as I went out. I suppose the stone was dislodged then. In my — well, I didn’t notice that it was missing until Mr. Angell called it to my attention later that night.”

“I see.” Ellery rose. “Thanks very much, Miss Gimball. If you took my advice you would tell your story to Pollinger—”

“Oh, no!” she cried in alarm. “Not that. Oh, please, you won’t tell him? To have to face those men...”

“It’s not really necessary, Ellery,” said Bill in a low voice. “Why complicate matters? It can’t do any good, and it will only get Miss Gimball a lot of unwelcome notoriety.”

“Angell’s right, Mr. Queen,” said Finch eagerly.

Ellery smiled a little. “Well, I seem to be overruled by sheer weight of numbers. Goodnight.”

He shook hands with Finch and Jones. Bill stood rather awkwardly by the door. His eyes met Andrea’s and came away. Then he followed Ellery out of the apartment with a despondent set to his shoulders.

Neither man spoke much on the journey to Trenton. Once, when they had left the General Pulaski Skyway and the lights of the Newark Airport behind, Bill muttered, “I’m sorry about not having told you, El. Somehow—”

“Forget it.”

The Pontiac rumbled along. “After all,” said Bill out of the darkness, “it’s so obvious she told the truth.”

“Oh, is it?”

Bill was silent for a moment. Then he said quickly: “What do you mean? Anyone can see that girl is the real stuff. You don’t think she — Why, that’s ridiculous! I’d no more consider her a murderess than I would my own sister.”

Ellery lit a cigaret. “It seems to me,” he remarked, “that you’ve undergone a startling change of heart in the past few days, my son.”

“I don’t get you,” mumbled Bill.

“Really? Now, now, Bill, you’re brighter than that. Really a smart young man. Only Saturday evening you were ranting against the rich, and rich young women in particular. Now, Andrea Gimball is so clearly a member of that parasitical class you detest, that I wonder at the consideration you’ve shown her.”