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just something I thought you ought to know because you’re a detective. I know Mrs. Robilotti wouldn’t want any trouble, and I was going to tell her, but I thought it might be better to tell you.”
    “I’m not here as a detective, Miss Tuttle. As I told you. I’m just here to enjoy myself.”
    “I know that; but you
are
a detective, and you can tell Mrs. Robilotti if you think you ought to. I don’t want to tell her because I know how she is, but if something awful happened and I hadn’t told anybody I would think maybe I was to blame.”
    “Why should something awful happen?”
    She had a hand on my arm. “I don’t say it should, but it might. Faith Usher still carries that poison around, and she has it with her. It’s in her bag. But of course you don’t know about it.”
    “No, I don’t. What poison?”
    “Her private poison. She told us girls at Grantham House it was cyanide, and she showed it to some of us, in a little bottle. She always had it, in a little pocket she made in her skirt, and she made pockets in her dresses. She said she hadn’t made up her mind to kill herself, but she might, and if she did she wanted to have that poison. Some of the girls thought she was just putting on, and one or two of them used to kid her, but I never did. I thought she might really do it, and if she did and I had kidded her I would be to blame. Now she’s away from there and she’s got a job, and I thought maybe she had got over it, but upstairs a while ago Helen Yarmis was with her in the powder room, and Helen saw the bottle in her bag and asked her if the poison was still in it, and she said yes.”
    She stopped. “And?” I asked.
    “And what?” she asked.
    “Is that all?”
    “I think it’s enough. If you knew Faith like I do. Here in this grand house, and the butler, and the men dressed up, and that powder room, and the champagne—this is where she might do it if she ever does.” All of a sudden she was cheerful again. “So would I,” she declared. “I would drop the poison in my champagne and get up on a chair with it and hold it high, and call out ‘Here goes to all our woes’—that’s what one of the girls used to say when she drank a Coke—and drink it down, and throw the glass away and get off the chair, and start to sink down to the floor, andthe men would rush to catch me—how long would it take me to die?”
    “A couple of minutes, or even less if you put enough in.” Her hand was still on my arm and I patted it. “Okay, you’ve told me. I’d forget it if I were you. Did you ever see the bottle?”
    “Yes, she showed it to me.”
    “Did you smell the stuff in it?”
    “No, she didn’t open it. It had a screw top.”
    “Was it glass? Could you see the stuff?”
    “No, I think it was some kind of plastic.”
    “You say Helen Yarmis saw it in her bag. What kind of a bag?”
    “Black leather.” She turned for a look around. “It’s there on a chair. I don’t want to point—”
    “You’ve already pointed with your eyes. I see it. Just forget it. I’ll see that nothing awful happens. Will you dance?”
    She would, and we joined the merry whirl, and when the band paused we went to the bar for champagne. Next I took Faith Usher.
    Since Faith Usher had been making her play for a year or more, and the stuff in the plastic bottle might be aspirin or salted peanuts, and even if it were cyanide I didn’t agree with Rose Tuttle’s notion of the ideal spot for suicide, the chance of anything happening was about one in ten million, but even so, I had had a responsibility wished on me, and I kept an eye both on the bag and on Faith Usher. That was simple when I was dancing with her, since I could forget the bag.
    As I said, I would have picked her for my sister because she looked as if she needed a brother, but her being the prettiest one of the bunch may have been afactor. She had perked up some too, with her face muscles relaxed, and, in spite of the fact that she got off