“I don’t believe it!”
“See here, Mr. Lockwood, it doesn’t matter to anybody whether you believe these things or not. Miss Austin has the valuables, and I’m going over there now to inquire how she got them. Also, it just occurs to me that those small footprints leading across the field, are directed toward the Adams house, and may have been made by a woman as likely as by our hypothetical small-footed man.”
“Those are Nogi’s footprints.”
“How do you know?”
“Common sense. Even if Miss Austin did come over here for any reason she would have come by the street, not across the snowy field.”
“Apparently she chose the field. So I’m going to ask her why.”
“All right, Cray, but you must admit you’re illogical, inconsequent and inconsistent. You think I killed Doctor Waring, because I have a sharp, round penholder, and owe some large bills. Then, because a gossiping old maid comes over here and babbles, you fly off at a tangent and accuse an unprotected girl of absurd and unbelievable crime.”
“Oho! Interested in the siren yourself, eh?”
“No; I’m not—if you mean Miss Austin. That is, not personally.”
Few men could have told this lie with such a convincing manner but Lockwood’s phlegmatic calm stood him now in good stead, and his air of obvious indifference carried conviction.