CHAPTER VIII THE LETTER-BOX
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"It's a queer case," said Mr. Bradbury to me, when I reached the office that afternoon. "Of course, I know Randolph Schuyler was no saint, but I never supposed he was deep enough in any affair to have a woman kill him. And so near his own home, too! He might have had the decency to choose his lady acquaintances in more remote sections of the city."
"That isn't the queerest part to me," I returned. "What I can't understand is, why that girl stabbed him. She didn't know him—"
"Now, now, Calhoun, she must have known him. She didn't know any Somers, we'll say, but she must have known Schuyler. A murder has to have a motive. She had provided herself with that knife beforehand, you see, and she got him out to the dining-room purposely."
"I can't think it
