“Well, I didn’t faint, but I almost collapsed from sheer fright lest I couldn’t make a loud enough sound to be heard by you people.”
“Oh, we were coming!” said Zizi, “I saw by the old hen’s face she had you boxed up in there, and I was going to do some ground and lofty yelling myself, if Mr. Rivers hadn’t smashed in the door just as he did.”
“I couldn’t hold back,” said Rivers, “I gave way to a blind impulse,—and I’m glad I did!”
“I’m glad, too,” and Olive gave him a grateful smile.
“But then,” cried Zizi, “he made you say you were engaged to him——”
“Yes,” and Olive paled as with fear. “I can’t tell about that——”
“You said you weren’t, and then he whispered to you, and then you said you were,” went on Zizi, remorselessly reviewing the scene.
“I know it,—but—oh, don’t ask me! Perhaps, I’ll tell—later,—if I have to,—but—I can’t—I can’t.”
Olive’s head drooped on Zizi’s shoulder, and the eerie little voice said, “There, there,—don’t talk any more now, Miss Olive, dear. Penny Wise, you carry on the conversation from this point.”
“All right,” said Wise, “I’ll tell my story. George Rodman is in the hands of the police, but I doubt very much if they can prove anything on him. He’s a sly proposition, and covers his tracks mighty well. Moreover, as to the murder of Mr. Gately, Rodman has a perfect alibi.”