“Phyllis, as you said to me—if you’re innocent, your name can’t be harmed.”
“Well—suppose I’m not innocent—would you stop then?”
Barry stared at her. He thought at first her speech was merely an outburst of the perversity which now and then showed in her volatile nature. But her face was drawn and white and her eyes dark with a sort of terror he had never before seen her show.
However, he saw no choice but to treat her speech lightly.
“Oh, yes, of course! But until you tell me you’re the villain of the piece, I shan’t be able to believe it.”
“I didn’t like Mr Gleason.”
“Who did? Check up, now. If we’re to suspect all who didn’t like the man, there’s Pollard, Davenport, you, me——”
“And Mr Pollard’s mythical Westerner. Oh, Phil, I wish he could be found!”
“Who? Pollard?”
“No; the man he thinks came from the West—an old acquaintance of Mr Gleason’s.”