"Have you been following me? Were—were—you in Brooklyn yesterday?"
"Yes, to both questions." Her voice shook, but her eyes challenged him imperiously; they were under the bright lights of Main Street. "I'll tell you what I believe Alys knows: that you killed David Balfame; and she can't make up her mind to betray you even to liberate an innocent woman."
He was taken unawares, but she could detect no relaxation in his strong face; on the contrary, it set more grimly.
"And what are you up to?" he asked.
"To find the proof for myself, and get ahead of Jim Broderick."
"I know of no one so convinced of Mrs. Balfame's guilt as Broderick."
"That's all right, but a man with as keen a scent as that is likely to find the real trail any minute."
"And you believe I did it?"
"I think there are reasons for believing it."
"I won't ask you for them. It doesn't matter, particularly. What interests me is to know whether you believe that if I had committed the crime of murder I would let a woman suffer in my stead."