“You don’t think she had anything to do with——”
“Of course, I know Alma Remsen had nothing to do with her uncle’s death, if that’s what you’re trying to say, but I do believe she was here late that night, and if that fact is discovered, it means trouble all round.”
He had suddenly acquired a dignity quite at variance with his former boyish embarrassment, and spoke earnestly and steadily.
“Why would she come here at such an hour?”
“She—she comes at any time—she has her own key——” He was floundering again.
“Yes, I know, but at half past one at night! What could be the explanation?”
“I can’t tell you——I daren’t tell you,” he moaned like a child. “But oh, Mr. Norris, do stand by! Do use any tact or cleverness you may possess to keep the hounds off her track! She will be persecuted, unless we can save her!” He began to look wild-eyed, and I began to fear that Miss Remsen had even a worse and more imbecile helper in him than in me.
But the whole affair was growing in interest, and I was glad to have a sympathizer in my belief in Alma Remsen’s innocence, whatever sort he might be.
For I had caught a few words from the next room and I felt certain that Everett and Keeley Moore were talking over the strange story of Alma and the waistcoats.
Feeling I could do no more with Dean just then, I went back to the bedroom.