Mrs. Collins, divining with the sure instinct of a woman, the obvious conclusion which the detective had drawn from the letter, ventured another attempt to gain possession of it.
"Now that you are convinced that it has no bearing on Mr. Whitmore's death, may I have it?" she asked.
"Why are you so anxious to obtain it?" retorted Britz.
"Because its possession by someone would be an endless source of embarrassment to me," answered she.
She spoke as one engaged in a controversy of minor significance. But it was plain that exhaustion was swiftly overtaking her, that her bruised senses were near the end of their endurance.
"You need fear no uneasiness from the letter while it is in my possession," the detective said reassuringly.
She accepted the statement as a final refusal to surrender the missive, and, consulting the small watch set in her black leather purse, noted with a frightened gasp that it was two o'clock.
"Where is Mr. Beard?" she asked, as if suddenly recalling his absence.
"He is under arrest," answered Britz in even voice.
Despite the soothing quality which he tried to inject into his tone, she started like a frightened deer.