Had the truth come out in his jests? Was it Inez, not the dagger,
that he really wanted?
Or was he merely the instrument of one or all of these people
before us, and was this an elaborate plan to throw Kennedy off and
prove an alibi for them? He had been the partner of Lockwood, the
intimate of de Moche. Which was he working for, now--or was he
working for himself alone?
No answer came to my questions, and I reflected that none would
ever come, if we sat here. Yet there seemed to be no way to turn,
without risking putting ourselves in a worse position than before.
At least, until we had some better plan of campaign, we occupied a
strategic advantage in Whitney's own house.
The hours of the night wore on. Midnight came. This inaction was
killing. Anything would be better than that
Suddenly the telephone startled us. We had wanted it to ring, yet
when it rang we were afraid of it. What was its message? It was
with palpitating hearts that we listened, while Craig answered.
"Yes, Burke," we heard him reply, "this is Kennedy."
There came a pause during which we could scarcely wait.
"Where are you now? Cold Stream. That is about twelve miles from
Rockledge--not on the New York road--the other road.
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