Besides, I have your companionship, which is most welcome, and for
which I thank you. I trust Mees--Mees--what you call--Holladay is
again well."
"We haven't heard from her," I said. "She is still at her place in the
country."
"Oh, she is doubtless well--in her I take such an interest--you will
pardon me if I weary you."
"Weary me? But you don't!"
"Then I will make bold to ask you--have you made any--what you
call--theory of the crime?"
"No," I answered; "that is, none beyond what was in the
newspapers--the illegitimate daughter theory. I suppose you saw it.
That seems to fit the case."
He nodded meditatively. "Yet I like to imagine how Monsieur Lecoq
would approach it. Would he believe it was a murder simply because it
so appeared? Has it occurred to you that Mees Holladay truly might
have visited her father, and that his death was not a murder at all,
but an accident?"
"An accident?" I repeated. "How could it be an accident? How could a
man be stabbed accidentally in the neck? Besides, even if it were an
accident, how would that explain his daughter's rushing from the
building without trying to save him, without giving the alarm? If it
wasn't a murder, why should the woman, whoever she was, be frightened?
How else can you explain her flight?"
He was looking at me thoughtfully.
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