"I am." This man Jones was developing into a very remarkable character. The reporter found himself side glancing at the thin, keen face of this resourceful butler. The lobe of the man's left ear came within range. Norton reached for a cigarette, but his hands shook as he lit it. There was a peculiar little scar in the center of the lobe.
"Well," said Jones, "I can find no evidence that she has been concerned in any of these affairs."
"You are suspicious?"
"Of everybody," looking boldly into the reporter's eyes.
"Of me?" smiling.
"Even of myself sometimes."
Conversation dropped entirely after this declaration.
"You're a taciturn sort of chap."
"Am I?"
"You are. But an agreement is an agreement, and while I'd like to print this story, I'll not. We newspaper men seldom break our word."