We held a three-cornered conference at the boat-house this afternoon, while Jane slept after luncheon, and for the first time Edith was taken fully into our confidence. She went a trifle pale, but she slipped a hand into mine as a vote of confidence.
“You,” she said, “the gentlest soul on earth, hiding a knife under that float there, and going out at night in a boat to kill somebody! Why, you can’t even row a boat, properly!”
The small laugh which followed helped us all.
What developed last night is as follows: Halliday got out of the car at the spot where the truck was found, and had Edith go back and approach slowly, along the road from town. Approximately, the conditions were the same as those of the night of the disappearance, save that no rain was falling.
Halliday, it appears, wa
