Whittaker’s chances of seeing his scheme through appeared slim enough to Julian: but even should he fail to see a rewritten version of his Diary in print, he had already, by one evening’s work, made a rotten mess of at least six lives. Neil and Sydney and Romany could no longer ignore their situation; whatever was between them would from now on be an open wound. Belknap would have definite proof of at least one crime and the criminal behind it. Whether, in view of the preposterous and unfair circumstances, he would decently ignore Crawford’s guilt was a doubtful question. Romany had fainted dead away when the Diary was first mentioned, and later had lost her head and confused the names of Neil Crawford and that lover of hers, with the crazy name of Durian, who had been accidently killed in one of her plays—why, of _course_, he _hadn’t_ been accidentally killed, that was just it. What a fool he was not to have thought of it before? So now he had three murderers accounted for: Crawford, Romany, and himself. As for Nadia, she looked the part of a poisoner to the letter. Dorn had clearly run away from something. With Blake it probably all depended on your definition of a duel.
But then there was Joel! Something must be wrong with his whole figuring, or Joel wouldn’t be where she was. Surely Whittaker wouldn’t include an innocent niece in a crime wave unless there were others as innocent to make it proper. Julian smiled at his own charming conceit. But it might be that Whittaker was so intent on crushing the alliance between himself and Joel that he was taking drastic measures to acquaint Joel with her lover’s villainy. He _must_ see Joel. He must see her before things developed beyond anyone’s control, as they were rapidly doing.
He jumped to his feet and almost out of his skin at a tapping on an inner door of his room that led God knew where. Should he lie low and gaze hypnotized at the door knob, or shout boldly “Come in,” or open the door suddenly and take the intruder off his guard? Julian had by now strung himself up to such a pitch that his own murder wouldn’t in the least have surprised him. Before he could decide on a course of action the door quietly opened and Joel appeared in a flowing blue robe. All his breath deserted him at the vision of her in his room.