"Won't you sit over here? This chair is more comfortable. That's right. Now, I will tell you exactly what happened." And, settling herself near him, Pussy Wilmott entered bravely upon the hardest half hour of her life. After all, he was a man and she would do the best she could!
"You see, M. Coquelin—I beg your pardon, M. Coquenil. The names are alike, aren't they?"
"Yes," said the other dryly.
"Well," she went on quite charmingly, "I have done some foolish things in my life, but this is the most foolish. I did give Martinez the five-pound notes. You see, he was to play a match this week with a Russian and he offered to lay the money for me. He said he could get good odds and he was sure to win."
"But the dinner? The private room?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I went there for a perfectly proper reason. I needed some one to help me and I—I couldn't ask a man who knew me so——"
"Then Martinez didn't know you?"
"Of course not. He was foolish enough to think himself in love with me and—well, I found it convenient and—amusing to—utilize him."
"For what?"
Mrs. Wilmott bit her red lips and then with some dignity replied that she did not see what bearing her purpose had on the case since it had not been accomplished.