He stalked from the room. Watson was waiting in the hall.
"This way," he said, indicating the big front door.
Smith grinned sheepishly. "'Gad, they don't even think I can find a front door," he said.
Redmond Wrandall turned to the two men after he heard the door of his automobile slam in the porte-cochere.
"Gentlemen, I believe it is unnecessary to announce to you that I did not speak over the telephone with my daughter-in-law on that wretched night," he said slowly.
They nodded their heads.
"I am not a good liar. Do you think the fellow believed me?"
"No," said Sara instantly. "He is accustomed to better lying than you can supply. But it doesn't in the least matter. He knows, however, that you spoke the truth when you said I was in my apartment, even though you are not sure of it yourself, Mr. Wrandall. I will not presume to thank you for what you did, but I shall never forget it, sir."
He regarded her rather austerely for a moment. "I am glad you do not thank me, Sara," he said. "You are not to feel that you are under the slightest obligation to me."
"I regret that you felt it necessary to perjure yourself," she said levelly, and then broke into a soft little laugh as she laid her hand on his arm once more. "Come! Let us have a semi-public view of Hetty's portrait."