“Mercy, no!” and Joyce opened her eyes full at him. “Eugene! What an idea! Of course I didn’t. Why, I believe in her as fully as—as I do in you! I can’t say more than that! She is honest and earnest in what she tells. Whether she sees truly, is another thing, and one over which she has no control. But all she says is in sincerity and truth.”
“It may be. But she has surely woven a web around me. That is, if others share your belief in her. Now, I’m going to work, Joyce, to find my alibi.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to scare up somebody who saw me on that bench and will swear to it.”
“Swear falsely?” Joyce whispered the words.
“If need be. But I hope to get an honest witness. May I speak to your outdoor servants? And the house staff, too, if necessary?”
“Of course. Find the head gardener, Mason, he’ll round up the rest. Oh, Eugene, you will find some one, surely. They are about the grounds every night. And perhaps Barry saw you. He was out with the dogs.”
“I’ll find some one, dear. Don’t worry.”
Courtenay went away, and Joyce went into the house. She went to Beatrice Faulkner’s room, and found her there.
“May I come in?” asked Joyce, at the door.