“Save them, anyway—put them in an envelope—gather all you can. Probably they are off of more than one gown. Now, here’s a long white glove—but that might belong to anybody.”
“Save it—it’s a possible clue. Well, here are two cigarette stubs—women never care where they throw them! and here are three hair-pins—all different. Here’s a man’s glove, a dagger”
“A dagger!”
“Oh, just a tinsel one—out of some Spanish girl’s hair—it will bend if you look at it.”
“Keep it. It shows the presence of your Spanish girl on the scene.”
“Probably before the crime. You see, Dickson, this place, near the divan and table, was a favorite lounging spot, and they all drifted in here between dances. Then it was doubtless during a dance that the crime occurred, when this room was practically deserted, and also when that Jazz racket would drown any sounds.”
“That’s right so far, Hutchins. But get all the scraps here you can—for among them must be the clues left by the murderer—if any.”
“Yes, if any! Well, here’s a fan and a mask”
“A mask!”
“Yes, why’s that strange?”
“Because no one had as yet unmasked! It isn’t Mrs. Barham’s—she had hers on when they found her.”
“Oh, it’s an extra then. It’s just a tiny black domino, with a lace frill”
“A woman’s, then?”
“Not necessarily. The men who wore fancy-fiddly costumes, like cavaliers or troubadours, wore this sort of mask.”
“Maybe it’s young Jarvis’s. He was a troubadour.”
