“Good gracious, Phil, are you beginning to suspect me? Go to Millicent with your theories? She has thought from the first that I shot her brother. Go over to her side, if you like.”
“I don’t like! It isn’t a question of ‘sides’! And if it is, of course, I’m on your side. You know that, don’t you, Phyllis? You know I’m for you, first, last and all the time.”
“Then help me, Phil, and sympathize, and don’t come rushing in here and screaming out, ‘Was I at Mr Gleason’s when he was killed?’”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You did, practically. Now, what do you mean by it?”
“Why,” Barry hesitated, “why, I’ve been to see that——”
“Ivy Hayes?”
“Yes. And she said you were there.”
“Ivy Hayes said I was there! She must be crazy!”
“Weren’t you? Tell me you weren’t, Phyllis. I’ll be so glad to know it. Where were you that afternoon, late? You never would say.”