"Well, explain further," he said patiently.
"Put your mind back three weeks ago—at about eleven o'clock in the morning. Where were you? what were you doing? what was happening?"
Mr. Heatherbloom looked very thoughtful.
"At the corner of"—she mentioned the streets—"not far from Riverside
Drive. We passed at that time in the car. Need I say more?"
His head was downbent. "I think I understand." His hand stroked tentatively his chin.
The silence grew; Beauty barked, but neither seemed to notice.
"Of course you can't deny?" she observed.
"Of course not," he said, without moving.
"You won't defend yourself; plead palliating causes?" ironically.
He picked at the ground with the toe of a shoe. "If I told you, on my honor, I am not—what you have called me just now, would you believe me?" he asked gravely.