man, a kid. The wind blew all the next day. The body lay there all day. The presumptive murderer could have got up to the scene again and carefully removed any incidental signs of his or her presence. There were hours for that--hours in which we didn't know Calder was dead and nobody kept track of anybody. Such a murderer, wanting to be sure the stage was set correctly, might even have arranged a palpable reason to be in the vicinity the next day--
just to cover any possible chance of a clue he'd overlooked. A rendezvous on Garnet Knob, for instance--"
Danielle gasped faintly. "You can be very trying, Aggie!"
"All right. You didn't do it. Maybe Bill did. Maybe he welcomed your bid to him to go hiking before supper--in spite of pretending not to want to go."
"I never thought of that." She pondered. "Do you believe--philosophically--that killing a man is ever--permissible? I mean--would you hunt down a very useful man because he'd murdered a very dangerous one?"
"I dunno."
Danielle shook herself. "You always make me take the chances on you! It's very unsatisfying! Look here, Aggie Plum! The night Jim was killed, Dad went for a consultation to Parkawan. He left fairly late and he didn't get back till much later. There are three physicians in Parkawan. I phoned them all--this afternoon--when Dad was out in his darkroom. None of them called on Dad. The hospital didn't. That's thing number one that frightens me. Then--I had another thought. How long was Dad busy with Sarah that morning--to diagnose her mumps?"
"Maybe half an hour."
"Did he leave--right after that?"
"Yeah. Shortly."
"He didn't come home. I slept late--naturally. I'd been up most of the night, what with him out--and coming back--and you. But the cook says she's sure she heard him sneaking upstairs by the back way when she was getting up--and that was around seven--
long after daylight. The cook wasn't sure--she just mentioned it. I didn't think anything of it at the time--I just assumed he'd stayed a long while with Sarah."
"I see," Aggie said. "No wonder you're--scared."
Danielle said, "I'm telling you because I'm sunk. I don't know what to do. They shouldn't--certainly--take Father's life for Jim Calder's! He's not a very sympathetic man--
but he's a very valuable one! I never could love him--much--because I think he's always·
felt icy toward me--since Mother left him. As if I were contaminated, somehow. Then--
you saw him throw those shoes overboard--"
Aggie took out his pipe, held a match for her cigarette, and made no reply.
"They were shoes," she went on. "I've looked in his closet and they're gone. Shoe pacs--if you know what they are. Deerskin, or elkskin, or something. He always wore them for walking--and he kept some sort of oil on them that turned the rawhide brownish.
I didn't think of the importance of the fact that they have no hard soles and no heels at all-
-till you explained it just now. Do you suppose he was getting rid of them because there was some blood on them that he knew he couldn't get out thoroughly enough so that if Wes, or somebody, examined them with a microscope--?"
"A pretty fancy thing to prepare for."
' Dad has a pretty fancy brain. He'd think of microscopic examinations and chemical examinations-all that." She sighed. "I've told you--anyway. I'm glad I did."
"Why didn't you tell Wes Wickman?"
"I couldn't decide whether to go to him or not. I've got the jitters--the inside kind--
and that's the worst kind. Then--Wes was crazy in love with me, once--and I turned him down fiat. He was miserable for-ages. Maybe you won't understand--but a woman can hesitate about--turning in her own father--to a man who has loved her--a man she's hurt.
Maybe that's nutty. And, anyway, I didn't want to make the decision about whether all this should be forgotten--or whether it should be brought out, and Dad arrested. Because, after all, he did kill Jim Calder--didn't he?"
Aggie smoked. "It looks like it," he
just to cover any possible chance of a clue he'd overlooked. A rendezvous on Garnet Knob, for instance--"
Danielle gasped faintly. "You can be very trying, Aggie!"
"All right. You didn't do it. Maybe Bill did. Maybe he welcomed your bid to him to go hiking before supper--in spite of pretending not to want to go."
"I never thought of that." She pondered. "Do you believe--philosophically--that killing a man is ever--permissible? I mean--would you hunt down a very useful man because he'd murdered a very dangerous one?"
"I dunno."
Danielle shook herself. "You always make me take the chances on you! It's very unsatisfying! Look here, Aggie Plum! The night Jim was killed, Dad went for a consultation to Parkawan. He left fairly late and he didn't get back till much later. There are three physicians in Parkawan. I phoned them all--this afternoon--when Dad was out in his darkroom. None of them called on Dad. The hospital didn't. That's thing number one that frightens me. Then--I had another thought. How long was Dad busy with Sarah that morning--to diagnose her mumps?"
"Maybe half an hour."
"Did he leave--right after that?"
"Yeah. Shortly."
"He didn't come home. I slept late--naturally. I'd been up most of the night, what with him out--and coming back--and you. But the cook says she's sure she heard him sneaking upstairs by the back way when she was getting up--and that was around seven--
long after daylight. The cook wasn't sure--she just mentioned it. I didn't think anything of it at the time--I just assumed he'd stayed a long while with Sarah."
"I see," Aggie said. "No wonder you're--scared."
Danielle said, "I'm telling you because I'm sunk. I don't know what to do. They shouldn't--certainly--take Father's life for Jim Calder's! He's not a very sympathetic man--
but he's a very valuable one! I never could love him--much--because I think he's always·
felt icy toward me--since Mother left him. As if I were contaminated, somehow. Then--
you saw him throw those shoes overboard--"
Aggie took out his pipe, held a match for her cigarette, and made no reply.
"They were shoes," she went on. "I've looked in his closet and they're gone. Shoe pacs--if you know what they are. Deerskin, or elkskin, or something. He always wore them for walking--and he kept some sort of oil on them that turned the rawhide brownish.
I didn't think of the importance of the fact that they have no hard soles and no heels at all-
-till you explained it just now. Do you suppose he was getting rid of them because there was some blood on them that he knew he couldn't get out thoroughly enough so that if Wes, or somebody, examined them with a microscope--?"
"A pretty fancy thing to prepare for."
' Dad has a pretty fancy brain. He'd think of microscopic examinations and chemical examinations-all that." She sighed. "I've told you--anyway. I'm glad I did."
"Why didn't you tell Wes Wickman?"
"I couldn't decide whether to go to him or not. I've got the jitters--the inside kind--
and that's the worst kind. Then--Wes was crazy in love with me, once--and I turned him down fiat. He was miserable for-ages. Maybe you won't understand--but a woman can hesitate about--turning in her own father--to a man who has loved her--a man she's hurt.
Maybe that's nutty. And, anyway, I didn't want to make the decision about whether all this should be forgotten--or whether it should be brought out, and Dad arrested. Because, after all, he did kill Jim Calder--didn't he?"
Aggie smoked. "It looks like it," he
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