"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
Two distracting blue eyes were staring him out of countenance; two scarlet lips were drawn tightly together in reproof of a man who boasted such a friendship; two cheeks flamed with indignation that he should have mentioned the name. Hatch floundered for a moment, then cleared his throat and took a fresh start.
"Will you deny that you saw Richard Herbert on the evening of the masked ball?"
"I will not."
"Will you admit that you saw him?"
"I will not."
"Do you know that he was wounded?"
"Certainly."
Now, Hatch had always held a vague theory that the easiest way to make a secret known was to intrust it to a woman. At this point he revised his draw, threw his hand in the pack, and asked for a new deal.
"Miss Meredith," he said soothingly after a pause, "will you admit or deny that you ever heard of the Randolph robbery?"