"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean that you are the accomplice of that woman who calls herself a medium,—that woman who is a fraud, a fake, a miserable charlatan! You came to the house to get some more belongings of Mr. Crane's dead son's,—in order to take them to the Parlato woman and let her trade further on an old man's credulity! That's what you were there for!"
Zizi's nerves were at high tension. She thoroughly believed every word she said, and she felt that perhaps the best way to make this man own up was to put the case thus straightforwardly.
Peter Boots looked at her, his expression changing from amazement to amusement and then to sympathy.
"No," he said gently, "I didn't do that. I swear I didn't."
"Then why were you there?"
Uncertain what to say, Peter just sat and looked at her.
And somehow,—by some subtle intelligence or telepathic flash—all of a sudden,—Zizi knew!
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes like stars, "oh,—you're Peter Boots!"
Slowly, Peter nodded his head.