"Señor Alvarez was shot at the German Embassy Ball last night," Mr. Grimm told her.
Miss Thorne nodded, as if in wonder.
"Did you, or did you not, shoot him?"
It was quite casual. She received the question without change of countenance, but involuntarily she caught her breath. It might have been a sigh of relief.
"Why do you come to me with such a query?" she asked in turn.
"I beg your pardon," interposed Mr. Grimm steadily. "Did you, or did you not, shoot him?"
"No, of course I didn't shoot him," was the reply. If there was any emotion in the tone it was merely impatience. "Why do you come to me?" she repeated.
"Why do I come to you?" Mr. Grimm echoed the question, while his listless eyes rested on her face. "I will be absolutely frank, as I feel sure you would be under the same circumstances." He paused a moment; she nodded. "Well, immediately after the shooting you ran along the hallway with a revolver in your hand; you ran down the steps into the kitchen, and out through the back door, where you entered an automobile. That is not conjecture; it is susceptible of proof by eye witnesses."
Miss Thorne rose suddenly with a queer, helpless little gesture of her arms, and walked to the window. She stood there for a long time with her hands clasped behind her back.
"That brings us to another question," Mr. Grimm continued mercilessly. "If you did not shoot Señor Alvarez, do you know who did?"