“Why should I? I won’t say now, either, but I was not at Mr Gleason’s.”
“Oh, then that’s all right.” Barry’s tense expression relaxed, and he smiled. “Then that youngster made it all up. I fancied she did—just to make a sensation.”
“Why—what did she say, exactly?” Phyllis looked ill at ease.
Barry couldn’t suspect her sincerity, but he watched her as he told of his interview with Miss Hayes.
“She said I was there! That she was hidden in another room while I was there! Why, I wasn’t there at all!”
“You didn’t go to Mr Gleason’s the day of—the day he died?”
“No, I’ve never been there! Why should I go? It isn’t my custom to go to the homes of men I know. They call on me.”
“Of course, Phyllis—don’t get angry, dear. I didn’t think you’d go there—but there might have been a reason—an errand, you know.”
“Well, there wasn’t. I wish you’d all stop trying to find out who killed that man! What difference does it make? He’s dead, and it won’t bring him to life to punish his murderer. I think Millicent is foolish about it.”
“It’s natural, Phyllis, dear. It isn’t exactly revenge, but more an avenging spirit. It’s human nature to demand a life for a life.”