“Oh, yes, you do, and please understand we’re at one in this matter. I want you to promise not to say anything about it to any one. You see, your unfortunate trick of blushing like a schoolgirl gives you away, and makes you seem to admit far more than you know. Now, before Detective March or Keeley Moore gets after you, just you tell me what you know and let me advise you. I’m as loyal to Miss Remsen as you can possibly be, even if you are in love with her and I’m not.”
I made this not entirely veracious statement to set the poor chap’s mind at rest, for I could see dawning jealousy in his frank and open countenance.
He responded to my sincerity of manner and tone, and speaking almost in a whisper, said:
“I didn’t see her, my room is in the other wing, but I heard Alma’s paddling. I’d know her stroke among a thousand. Nobody paddles as she does.”
“Oh, you couldn’t recognize a mere paddle stroke!”
“Yes, I could. It’s unique, I tell you. She has a peculiar rhythm, and if you know it, it’s unmistakable.”
“At what time was this?”
“About half past one; a few minutes later, just after the clock in the hall had chimed the half hour.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
He glared at me. “That’s a nice question, when you’ve fairly dragged it out of me! But I’m banking on your statement that you’re loyal to Alma and I’m hoping that you can somehow ward off inquiries from Mr. Moore or keep the police away from her house.”