"Eh--why not? I see him yesterday; I see him this morning; and he ask me to say nothing of his veesit to Barnstead on that night. But I no promise; I have good reason to no promise."
"What reason?" asked the journalist, bewildered by her manner.
Before replying, Catinka sprang lightly from her seat, and caught up the fan of rainbow feathers from off the mantelpiece. "My reason, dear Mr. Critic? Behold it!"
"Ah! then your reason has to do with your society?"
"Oh, yes; it has all to do with that," said Catinka, shutting the fan composedly. "I will to you explain all, if you wish."
"Of course I wish, mademoiselle. I wish to find out who killed that poor girl."
Catinka shook her head gravely, and resumed her seat. "That thing I cannot say."
"But you were on the very spot where the murder took place."
"Yes," she admitted; "there I was. How you know?"
"By the rainbow feather you dropped."