"Mr. Holmes, I'm a poor girl, and not very well known except to a few in my own field. This contest could mean everything to me. Even if there's a risk, if there's a chance for me to give my music to the world, I have to take it. I'll stay but I'll be careful."

"Then lock yourself in your room, Miss Visovich, and remain there except for meals, and then only come down when you hear others in the hall." The girl nodded as she left the room.

Holmes strode back and forth silently for a few minutes, his hands clasped behind his back. He took the vial out of the pocket in which he placed at it, looked at for a moment, then replaced it. "That was a very interesting conversation, wasn't it, Watson? She made a bad slip, there, though." "Slip, Holmes?"

"You heard, Watson, but you did not observe. Miss Visovich told us that the cello has always been an important part of her life. The contest here, Watson, is for pianists. She's lying, and lying badly at that, even in small things. The chocolates were in the room to pass the time, she says, yet she did not eat them? What a strange way to put it. She is not who she seems, Watson, but who is she, and why is she here?"

"For that matter, Holmes, why should Amberson tell you that his father was 'poor but honest' and then go on with the story about his being the youngest of so many children when surely there would be enough money for all in a family as wealthy as the Ambersons? Why lie to start with and then supposedly tell the truth?"

"That's true, Watson. Still, the one who really interests me is our host, Mr. Eideard. He was himself a great pianist, true, and when he retired he became an impresario, arranging for the concerts of other artists. He becomes the de facto manager for whoever wins this contest, you know, and both the artist and he make a great deal of money that way. He manages other artists as well, of course."

"So he's still in the music business."
"Yes, which makes it all the more odd that he didn't notice anything amiss when I played the piano in his room. One of the notes did not ring true, Watson, just one. It was, of course, the one that the string had been taken from. Yet Eideard made no comment.

"Did you also notice there are no pictures of Eideard in his concert days? No pictures at all, Watson. The interesting thing is that while Eideard is now a clean-shaven man, in his performing days one of the most striking things about him was his bushy beard, which covered most of his face. I suspect it added greatly to his popularity.

"There's yet another odd feature of this case, Watson. Did you notice that the letters of Eideard's name can be rearranged to spell 'Die, dear?'" "So they do, Holmes, so they do. It does seem as if a great deal is being hidden by a lot of people in this case, Holmes."

"Too many, Watson. The field is far too cluttered, making it hard to see clearly. But there's something I'm missing, and --" Our conversation was interrupted by a crash coming from the staircase out in the hall.

Proceed to Part 13