"I realized, too, that the story he told will appear incredible—even ridiculous—to anybody who does not know him. I do know him"—I could well believe that!—"and for that reason, nothing short of an admission of guilt from him would cause me to consider him as a participant—in any capacity, Mr. Swift—in last night's tragedy."
"Your loyalty does you credit," I murmured, for lack of anything better to say.
"Loyalty?" she cried, with emotion. "Oh, Mr. Swift! That's not the word! It's not loyalty that moves me to speak in Royal's behalf, although I would do much for him in any case. But—Belle—"
She was stopped by a sudden accession of feeling, and I tried to inject into my demeanor the encouragement she quite plainly needed.
"Before you go on," I quietly observed, "I will say that Mr. Maillot impressed me very favorably."
"Yes," quickly; "I also perceived that. It was that circumstance which finally overcame my reluctance to intrude upon you. You were greatly puzzled, though, baffled, by his extraordinary story."
"Not baffled, I trust," I said.
"Well, no; perhaps not baffled. But the extravagant recital that fell from his lips must have seemed to you fantastically improbable.
"It is chiefly for Belle Fluette's sake, however," she pursued, "that I want to learn—oh, everything about this dreadful affair—all the little details. I want to enlist your sympathies for Royal; not against him."
It was a relief when she grouped her desire for information into this vague generalization; I could see my way as long as she was not too specific. But some further intimate knowledge respecting this pretty young lady was imminently in store for me.