“Good evening, Miss Ballau,” Norton addressed her. “Will you sit down, please?”
She lowered herself into a chair, her gestures preoccupied as if her wits were sleeping. Dr. Lytton had neither moved nor spoken. He sat now facing her, his eyes gleaming with a curious avidity.
“I have told Mr. De Medici,” began Norton. “He knows our whole story.”
“Yes,” De Medici smiled at her, “a charming and impossible tale.”
“Then you have changed your mind, Julien?” she murmured.
“Yes,” he answered, “I have, as they say in the melodramas, unshaken faith in your innocence.”
Again he took her hand and his voice grew deep with assurance.
“For a reason, Florence,” he said softly, “for a perfect and impregnable reason. Because——”
He paused, aware of Dr. Lytton’s restraining frown. He had been about to speak of the letter from Rollo.
“Tell me as much or as little as you wish,” he added. “Lieutenant Norton’s theories....” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled politely toward the detective. “Preposterous,” he finished.