“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean a woman, working alone, would hardly dare to kill a man,—but, accompanied, maybe egged on by another woman, she’d be daredevil enough to——”
“Who would? Julie Baxter?” Corson flung the question at him.
“Yes,” Moore declared, “Julie or any woman of her fierce, intense nature. I know Julie well, and I love her, and I’m going to see her through,—but it’s quite in the picture that she knows something about this thing.”
“You’re pretty frank for a man engaged to——”
“That’s just it! I’m going to save her from herself! Julie is stubborn,—she’s positively pig-headed, if she takes a notion. Now, if she’s keeping something back,—and she is,—it’s to shield some friend, or,—or to shield herself; but not from conviction of crime,—rather from some circumstances that might falsely incriminate her—or some one else.”
“But if she knows who did this thing——”
“Oh, she doesn’t. At most, she only suspects. But I’ll find out. She’s my girl, and I’m going to discover the truth about her,—and then about the murder.”
“Oho, you’re going to be a detective!”
“Not so’s you’d notice it. But I’m going to do a little sleuthing on the side and if I find out anything that will help justice along, I promise to tell you,—let the chips fall where they may.”