"So it was on Monday night. Of course I was anxious to be with her at all times, but then the whim seized me all at once, and—well, I went. I heard the shots—just as I was leaving—but had no idea they came from the house, and neither had Joyce. We differed about their exact location, but that was all; we heard no more nor saw anything. I did not approach close to the house at any time."
"Shortly after hearing the shots—just before you left—did you hear no sound, as of some one approaching from the house?"
Clay shook his head. "Not a thing," he said.
The next question, "Did you see Howard Lynden Monday night?" caused his face to darken.
"Howard?" he asked, uncomprehendingly. "No. What of him?"
"You did not know that he was near you Monday night—" The speaker stopped in the face of the other's expression. Clay's brow knotted, his lips compressed, and he watched Converse intently through half-closed lids. He glanced swiftly at his sister. It was quite plain that Lynden, as a topic, was extremely distasteful.
But Clay merely said:
"So Mr. Howard Lynden followed her from Mrs. Farquier's, did he? What have you to say to that, Lottie?"
"Maybe not, Clay, maybe not. Don't be—"
"No; he did not," interposed the Captain; "but started out to look for her as soon as he missed her from the company."