Her disclaimer sounded true, but Stone began to think she was a consummate little actress as well as a clever falsifier.
“Well,” he said, after a short pause, “I may as well tell you, Miss Austin, that I am here to solve this mystery. That I am not at all satisfied that you are telling me the truth; that, therefore, I shall have to seek the truth elsewhere. I will tell you, too, that I don’t want to implicate you, that I should much prefer to keep your name out of it all, but that you leave me no choice but to go ahead with my investigations wherever they may lead. A few more questions and you may go. What was Doctor Waring doing when you came?”
“He—he was sitting at his desk.” She looked troubled at Stone’s speech and seemed half inclined to be more friendly.
“You saw him through the French window, before you came in?”
“Yes; the window has a silk curtain, but I saw him between the edge of the silk and the window sash.”
“Was he reading?”
“No; there were books on the desk, but he was not reading.”
“He rose and let you in?”
“Yes.”
“He had sent for you?”