“She didn’t at first,” I urged, not realizing where my argument led. “But she was so put about and bewildered by that fool coroner that she scarcely knew what she was saying——”
“I think you scarcely know what you’re saying, Gray,” and Moore looked at me in kindly admonition. “You’d better hush up, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure Miss Remsen needs an advocate, but if she does, your incoherent babblings won’t do her any good.”
Though he smiled, his tone was serious, and I began to see I was making a fool of myself.
I turned on my heel and left the room, not trusting myself to hush up to the degree desired. In the sitting room, I saw Billy Dean, looking disconsolate.
I was surprised, for he had seemed cheerful enough up to now.
On a sudden impulse, and with a glance that he could not mistake for other than confidential, I said:
“So you saw the canoe Wednesday night?”
“Yes,” he said, answering my eyes rather than my words. Then realizing his slip, he said, quickly, “No, not a canoe, I heard a motor boat about midnight.”
“Yes, and a canoe later,” I persisted. “Look out, Dean, I’m not investigating, I’m only anxious to help—the innocent,” I finished, a little lamely.
“I don’t get you,” the young man said, stubbornly, and again the red flamed in his cheeks.