Ezra looked dismal.
"No, I wasn't with him all the time; I only met him at the Bon-Bon, and I left before he did."
"Yes," interposed the detective smoothly; "and, according to Mr. Mortimer, Stewart left there about half-past twelve o'clock."
"And then, I presume," said Eugénie, with fine disdain, "you think he went and murdered Lazarus right off?"
"Well," observed Naball, deliberately smoothing his gloves, "according to the doctor's evidence, the crime was committed about twelve o'clock, or a little later. Now Stewart can't say where he was between the time he left the theatre and the time he met Villiers."
"He was wandering about the streets," explained Eugénie.
Naball smiled cynically.
"Yes; so he says."
"And so every one else says who knows Keith Stewart," retorted the girl. "He is incapable of such an act."
Naball shrugged his shoulders as much as to say that he had nothing to urge against such an eminently feminine argument.