“I'm a friend of LeGrand Blossom's—at least, I am now since I overheard what he had to say to you and Miss Webb,” went on the detective. “Now then, if you'll tell me what I want to know, I'll help him to come across—clean, and I'll help you to the extent I mentioned.”
Morocco Kate seemed to be considering as she stood in the darkness. Then a long sigh came from her lips, and it was as though she had come to the end of everything.
“I'll tell,” she said simply. “What do you want to know? But first, let me say I didn't no more have an idea that Sport Carwell was going to die than you have. Do you believe that?” she asked fiercely.
“I believe you, Kate. Now let's get down to brass tacks. Who is Jean Carnot, and where can I find him?”
“Oh!” she murmured. “You want him?”
“Very much, I think. Don't you?”
“Yes, I do! I—I would like to tear out his eyes! I'd like to—”
“Now, Kate, be nice! No use losing your temper. That's got you into trouble more than once. Try to play the lady—you can do it when you have to. Calling names isn't going to get us anywhere. Just tell me where I can find your former husband—or the one you thought was your husband—Jean Carnot.”
“You're right, Colonel Ashley, I did think him my husband,” said Morocco Kate simply. “And when I found out he had tricked me by a false marriage, and wouldn't make it good—well, I just went to the devil and hell—that's all.”
“I know it, Kate, and I appreciate your position. I'm not throwing any stones at you. I've seen enough of life to know that none of us can do that with impunity. Now tell me all you can. And I'll say this—that after this is all over, if you want to try and do as Blossom is going to do—come through clean—I'll help you to the best of my ability.”