“First, we must be sure it is undeserved.”
“Very well, I will make sure!”
With a determined gesture, Phyllis pushed a bell button and a maid responded.
“Ask Mr Lindsay to come here,” Phyllis directed, and then turning to Pollard with a pretty gesture of confidence, she said:
“Let’s work together, Manning. You see what you think of the way Louis meets my questions. I’ve decided to meet the issue straight.”
“What is it, Sis?” asked Louis, coming into the room. “What do you want of me? Hello, Pollard, how are you?”
“Buddy, dear,” Phyllis began, “where were you the day Mr Gleason died?”
“Out with it Phyl. Do you think I killed him?”
Louis looked at his sister. The boy was haggard, pale and worried looking, but he met her eye and awaited her answer to his question.
“No, Louis, I can’t think so—but there are circumstances that make it appear possible, and I want your word.”