TO 12:45 P.M. Weigand told the major to sit down. Weigand sat too. He still held the major’s automatic, and now he turned it in his hands, abstractedly. “Well, Major?” he said, after a moment. The major looked at him. The major was not so confident as usual; he looked, on the whole, embarrassed. “Made a damn fool of myself, eh?” he said, after a moment. “Spilled the beans.” “Yes,” Weigand said. “Although it’s understandable, I suppose—under the circumstances. How long have you known about Brack and your daughter, Major?” The major moved his thick body in what might have been a shrug. He stared commandingly at the lieutenant, who did not wilt. “This is all damned nonsense,” the major said. He said it a little hopefully. The expression on Lieutenant Weigand’s face apparently did not sustain the hope. “Nothing to do with all this,” the major said, decisively. Weigand nodded. “That’s quite possible,” he said. “It is also something about which the police will have to make up their own minds.
