I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth from them.
“Now, Louis,” I began, “you may as well tell me the truth about your home coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you must admit that you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had been sent to Miss Lloyd.”
“No, no, indeed!” declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, as if forbidding her to contradict him.
“Nonsense, man,” I said; “don't stand there and tell useless lies. It will not help you. The best thing you can do for yourself and for all concerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it to me now, you will have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose and you wore it away that evening when you went to see your young lady. Now what became of that rose?”
“I—I lost it, sir.”
“No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own room.”
“No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, but cannot find him.”
I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his own story so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpleton than a villain.
“Of course you couldn't find it,” I informed him, “for it was taken from your room next day; and of course you didn't look for it until after you had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest.”
Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at Elsa, as he said: “Who take him away? who take my rose from my room.”