"Absolutely none."
"Except you think it wasn't your husband?"
"I know it wasn't my husband."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I asked him. Ah, you needn't smile, I made him give me proof." When I got home that night I had a horrible feeling that Addison must have done it. Who else could have done it, since he had engaged Number Seven? So I waited until he came home. It was after twelve. I could hear him moving about in his room and I was afraid to speak to him, the thing seemed so awful; but, at last, I went in and asked him where he had been. He began to lie in the usual way—you know any man will if he's in a hole like that—but finally I couldn't stand it any longer and I said: 'Addison, for God's sake, don't lie to me. I know something terrible has happened, and if I can, I want to help you.'
"I was as white as a sheet and he jumped up in a great fright. 'What is it, Pussy? What is it?' he cried. And then I told him a murder had been committed at the Ansonia in private room Number Seven. I wish you could have seen his face. He never said a word, he just stared at me. 'Why don't you speak?' I begged. 'Addison, it wasn't you, tell me it wasn't you. Never mind this Anita woman, I'll forgive that if you'll only tell me where you've been to-night.'
"Well, it was the longest time before I could get anything out of him. You see, it was quite a shock for Addison getting all this together, caught with the woman and then the murder on top of it; I had to cry and scold and get him whisky before he could pull himself together, but he finally did and made a clean breast of everything."
"'Pussy,' he said, 'you're all right, you're a plucky little woman, and I'm a bad lot, but I'm not as bad as that. I wasn't in that room, I didn't go to the Ansonia to-night, and I swear to God I don't know any more about this murder than you do.'
"Then he explained what had happened in his blundering way, stopping every minute or so to tell me what a saint I am, and the Lord knows that's a joke, and the gist of it was that he had started for the Ansonia with this woman, but she had changed her mind in the cab and they had gone to the Café de Paris instead and spent the evening there. I was pretty sure he was telling the truth, for Addison isn't clever and I usually know when he's lying, although I don't tell him so; but this was such an awful thing that I couldn't take chances, so I said: 'Addison, put your things right on, we're going to the Café de Paris.' 'What for?' said he. 'To settle this business,' said I. And off we went and got there at half past one; but the waiters hadn't gone, and they all swore black and blue that Addison told the truth, he had really been there all the evening with this woman. And that," she concluded triumphantly, "is how I know my husband is innocent."