“What?”
“My friend, Archibald C. Smith.”
I did a little thinking over that one, and said, “Wait a minute. You couldn’t have seen him. He was in New York that night.”
She smiled. “I saw him plainly.”
“What did he say to you? What did you talk about?”
“I didn’t talk with him. I saw him, but he didn’t see me.”
“Where?”
“Down in front of my apartment.”
“When?”
“Just as I’m telling you, at twenty minutes past two.”