"Certainly," said George, whose own affability of manner quite equalled that of the celebrated detective.
"Then," went on Stone, "I will ask you, if you please, to detail your own occupations on last Wednesday."
"Beginning in the morning?" asked George.
"If you please."
"Well, let me see. I didn't get up very early, and after I did rise I stayed around here in my studio until luncheon time. During the morning I worked on several sketches for a book I am doing. About twelve o'clock I went uptown and lunched with a friend, a fellow-artist, at a little German restaurant. After that I went and called for Miss Millicent Waring, whom I had invited to go with me to a matinée. I had expected Mrs. Waring to accompany us, but as she was ill she allowed Miss Waring to go with me alone, although it is not Miss Waring's habit to go about unchaperoned."
I couldn't help feeling a certain satisfaction in listening to young Lawrence's story. I was glad that his habits and his friends were all so correct and so entirely free from the unconventionality which is sometimes noticed in the social doings of young artists.
"We went to the matinée," continued George, "in Mrs. Waring's carriage, which also came for us, after the performance."
"One moment," said Fleming Stone. "You stopped nowhere, going or coming?"
"No," said Lawrence; "nowhere."
"Except at the florist's," observed Stone quietly.