She made a step forward, ignoring the question.
"She isn't here—I can see that—but where is she?"
"How should I know?"
"Because you must know something about her, because you do know. Chrystie of herself wouldn't tell me lies; someone's made her do it, you've made her do it."
"Really, Miss Alston—"
But she wouldn't give him time to finish.
"Mr. Mayer, you've got to tell me where she is. I won't leave here till you do."
He had always felt and disliked a quality of cool reasonableness in this girl. Now he saw a fighting courage, a thing he had never guessed under that gentle exterior, and he liked it even less. Had he followed his inclination he would have treated her with the rough brutality he had awarded Pancha, but he had to keep his balance and discover how much she knew.
"Miss Alston, we're at cross-purposes. We'd come to a better understanding if I knew what you're talking about. You spoke of finding out something tonight. If you'll tell me what it is I'll be able to answer you more intelligently."
She thrust her hand into her belt, drew out a folded paper and handed it to him.