"I suppose she might," he admitted.
The inspector was looking at him sharply.
"It is a small point," he said smoothly. "Perhaps you can clear it up."
There was another pause. Tranter was plainly embarrassed.
"Inspector," he said at last, "I must, of course, tell you everything—but I should be obliged if for obvious reasons, you will keep as much as possible to yourself."
"That, sir," returned the inspector firmly, "you must leave to my discretion."
"I am content to do so," Tranter said. "The truth is—I had met Miss Manderson before."
"Ah!" said the inspector softly.
"I knew her first nearly six years ago, in Chicago. Her real name was not Christine Manderson."
The inspector's eyes began to brighten. He turned to a fresh page in his note-book.