“He told me,” she said, without a particle of hesitation, “that he had never seen one. Surely, if he had had anything of the sort, he would have shown it to me then.”
“Probably he did, too!” Burke rejoined, without the least suspicion that his surly utterance touched the truth exactly. “Now, see here,” he went on, trying to make his voice affable, though with small success, for he was excessively irritated by these repeated failures; “I can make it a lot easier for you if you'll talk. Come on, now! Who killed Griggs?”
Mary cast off pretense finally, and spoke malignantly.
“That's for you to find out,” she said, sneering.
Burke pressed the button on the desk, and, when the doorman appeared, ordered that the prisoner be returned to her cell.
But Mary stood rebellious, and spoke with a resumption of her cynical scorn.
“I suppose,” she said, with a glance of contempt toward Demarest, “that it's useless for me to claim my constitutional rights, and demand to see a lawyer?”
Burke, too, had cast off pretense at last.
“Yes,” he agreed, with an evil smirk, “you've guessed it right, the first time.”
Mary spoke to the District Attorney.