He studied her face, looking sorry about something, and after a few minutes he rose and said gruffly, “Come, we must hear what Jasper Crosby has to say for himself.”
She followed him to the corner where the prisoner sat sullenly on a chair. At first he would say nothing, but later when Judy questioned him about the funeral his attitude changed.
“There’s no secret about that,” he declared. “My sister is the one who died. I’ll give you the names of the doctor and undertaker to verify what I say.”
“Then the funeral was Sarah Glenn’s?”
Jasper nodded.
“But what became of Irene? We know she went to your sister’s house and we know she never returned. Where is she?”
Jasper Crosby grinned. “I’ll tell you if you’re so anxious to know. I thought she was a mite young to be traveling about New York. Yes, Miss, a mite young and irresponsible. So I sent her back to her father. Even paid her train fare and saw her off. Pretty decent of me, don’t you think, seeing she’s a perfect stranger?”
“When did this happen?” Judy demanded.
Jasper Crosby let his eyes rove thoughtfully about the room before he answered. He seemed content that the girl, not the policemen, was questioning him. As Judy’s questions were pertinent they, too, seemed content.
“I sent Irene to her father some time ago,” he said finally.