But the girl relaxed not a whit in her attitude of offense.
“Then,” she went on severely, “you must see at once that you are entirely mistaken in this matter.” Her blue eyes widened further as she stared accusingly at the Inspector, who betrayed evidences of perplexity, and hesitated for an answer. Then, the doll-like, charming face took on a softer look, which had in it a suggestion of appeal.
“Don't you see it?” she demanded.
“Well, no,” Burke rejoined uneasily; “not exactly, I don't!” In the presence of this delicate and graceful femininity, he experienced a sudden, novel distaste for his usual sledge-hammer methods of attack in interrogation. Yet, his duty required that he should continue his questioning. He found himself in fact between the devil and the deep sea—though this particular devil appeared rather as an angel of light.
Now, at his somewhat feeble remark in reply to her query, the childish face grew as hard as its curving contours would permit.
“Sir!” she cried indignantly. Her little head was thrown back in scornful reproof, and she turned a shoulder toward the official contemptuously.
“Now, now!” Burke exclaimed in remonstrance. After all, he could not be brutal with this guileless maiden. He must, however, make the situation clear to her, lest she think him a beast—which would never do!
“You see, young lady,” he went on with a gentleness of voice and manner that would have been inconceivable to Dacey and Chicago Red; “you see, the fact is that, even if you were introduced to this Mary Turner by young Mr. Gilder, this same Mary Turner herself is an ex-convict, and she's just been arrested for murder.”
At the dread word, a startling change was wrought in the girl. She wheeled to face the Inspector, her slender body swaying a little toward him. The rather heavy brows were lifted slightly in a disbelieving stare. The red lips were parted, rounded to a tremulous horror.
“Murder!” she gasped; and then was silent.