“Oh, yes, sir.”
Keeley stared at her. I went limp and faint all over and the two women nearly fell off their chairs.
But Kee was careful not to show his intense interest.
“Well, Jennie,” he said, in as casual a tone as he could command, “what do you know?”
“Do I have to tell you, sir?”
She looked at him serenely, not at all frightened, and with no diminution of her respectful attitude.
“Why,—er—yes, Jennie, I think you do.”
“I mean, legally, you know. Am I bound to answer your questions? Are you a policeman?”
“Why, yes, in a way,” Kee began, and then he said, quickly, “no, Jennie, I’m not a policeman, but if you don’t tell me, you’ll have to tell the police. Now, wouldn’t you rather tell me, nice and quietly, than to be interviewed by the police, who would scare you out of your wits?”
“Oh, sir, they couldn’t scare me,” the girl returned, with a look of self-reliance that seemed to exhibit neither fear of God nor regard of man. I had never seen on the face of one so young such apparent certainty of an ability to hold her own.