I said, “You stayed on in the apartment. You hung around the French Quarter for almost a year. You ate at the Bourbon House. You were seen quite frequently in Jack O’Leary’s Bar. According to Edna’s own story, you were supposed to get an apartment and stay there until she came back to live in New Orleans. Then almost overnight, you moved out of the Quarter. You started living uptown. You studied stenography. You never went back to any of your old haunts. You carefully avoided meeting Nostrander. It wasn’t until Edna gave Archibald Smith a letter to you that you went back to your old haunts in the French Quarter. You thought you were safe by that time. You weren’t. Someone told Nostrander you’d been seen there. Nostrander started doing a little detective work. I don’t know just how he went about it, but he may have done the same thing I did. In any event, he found you. He’d been looking for you for two years.”
“Now why did you suddenly leave the French Quarter?”
Edna said, “You don’t have to answer that question, Rob.”
“You don’t either one of you have to answer anything,” I said, “not now. But when the police ask those questions, you’re going to have to answer them.”
“Why will the police ask them?” Edna asked.
“Don’t you see?”
“No.”
“Where were you about half-past two on Thursday morning?” I asked.
“To whom are you talking?” Edna demanded. “You’re looking at me. You mean Roberta, don’t you?”
“No. I mean you.”