Plainclothesmen, in pairs, day and night shifts, still guarded the
lonely house in Primrose Meadows, but Dundee had taken no interest in
the actual scene of the crime since Carraway, fingerprint expert, had
reported negatively upon the secret shelf between Nita's bedroom closet
and the guest closet. So far as any tangible evidence went, only
Dundee's fingers had pressed upon the pivoting panel and explored the
narrow shelf.
The very lack of fingerprints had of course confirmed Dundee's belief
that the murderer's hand had pressed upon that swinging panel, had
quested in vain for the incriminating documents or letters which had
been the basis of Nita's blackmail scheme, had deposited upon the shelf
the gun and silencer with which the murder had been accomplished, and
had later retrieved the weapon in perfect safety. A hand loosely wrapped
in a handkerchief or protected by a glove.... The hand of a cunning,
careful, cold-blooded murderer--or murderess.... But--who? _Who?_
Bonnie Dundee, brooding at his desk in the living room of his small
apartment, reflected bitterly that he was no nearer the answer to that
question than he had been an hour after Nita Selim's death.
"Well, 'my dear Watson'," he addressed his caged parrot finally.
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