I said nothing at the moment and listened for Mr. Goodrich's comment.
“To my mind,” said the district attorney slowly, “this story, told now by Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl were guilty, or had any guilty knowledge of the crime, she would not have told of this matter at all. It was not forced from her; she told it voluntarily, and I, for one, believe it.”
“She told it,” said I, “because she wished to take the responsibility of the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since we are speaking plainly, I may assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later visit to the office because I hinted to her that the yellow leaves might implicate Gregory Hall.”
“Then,” said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, “she herself suspects Mr. Hall, which proves that she is innocent.”
“It doesn't prove her innocent of collusion,” observed Mr. Porter.
“Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall,” I added. “It merely shows that she fears others may suspect him.”
“It is very complicated,” said the district attorney.
“It is,” I agreed, “and that is why I wish to send for the famous detective, Fleming Stone.”
“Stone! Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. “I have every confidence in your skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would not insult you by calling in another detective.”
“Surely not,” agreed Mr. Porter. “If you need help, Mr. Burroughs, confer with our local man, Mr. Parmalee. He's a pretty clever chap, and I don't know why you two don't work more together.”