“By Jove, Lockwood,” Cray, exclaimed, as he closed the door behind him, “there’s a new way to look, which seems to promise to straighten out a lot of things. Do you know that little piece over at your boarding house, named Austin?”
“I know her slightly. What about her?”
From Lockwood’s voice no one would suspect that his heart was pounding desperately.
“Well, she was here late Sunday night! What do you know about that?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” returned Lockwood, coldly, “and I don’t believe it. For if she had been here I should have known about it. I was here myself, just outside the study door, until eleven. You don’t mean later than that, do you?”
“Dunno. The Bascom spinster tells the story—”
“Then don’t bank on it. With all due deference to Miss Bascom, I know she is not always a reliable source of information.”
“But she says she saw the girl coming over here late that night—”
“She didn’t! It’s not true! What under the heavens would she have come for?”
“What does any girl visit a man for?” Cray gave an unpleasant wink, and Lockwood with difficulty controlled an insane desire to spring at his throat. “And, beside, she is even now in possession of the missing five hundred dollars and the ruby pin.”