“Because,” said Lanagan, still breathing heavily, “she is innocent.”
“How do you know?”
“I know. That is enough. If you won’t take my word ring up the Chief and he will.”
O’Rourke knew the close friendship between Lanagan and Chief Leslie and the confidence the chief had in his judgment. He gazed doubtfully at the girl and then at Robbins. Secretly, he respected Lanagan also and he was impressed by Lanagan’s assurance.
“We aren’t justified in holding the girl,” he said to Robbins. Then to Lanagan: “All right. You win.”
But as Lanagan left the room with the girl to send her home in the police automobile, O’Rourke had an afterthought. He turned to Thomas.
“We might just as well cover up. Watch the house to-night. There’s something queer about this whole business that I don’t get yet.”
“Whatever happens keep calm until I see you again,” was Lanagan’s last counsel to the girl. Through the scene in O’Rourke’s office she had kept crouched down in her chair, watching with wide eyes; save for one quickly shrilled: “Give it to him!” as Lanagan’s sinewy fingers twined around Harrigan’s throat.
“It was terrible of me to say that, wasn’t it?” she asked. “But I couldn’t help it! He is a bad man! I feel it!”
“He’s what we call a ‘wrong’ detective,” said Lanagan, drily. “Don’t think about him any more.”