"For thinking me stupid? Oh, we were both—"
"No, for thinking me not stupid. I am stupid—stupid—stupid. The old fellow I told you about, Mr. O., and the way I telephoned him out of the flat that night—it was—"
"Ramsay!"
I nodded, and then crumbled to the floor.
It was then that they sent for you, Mag.
Why didn't I tell it straight at the first, you dear old Mag? Because I didn't know the straight of it, then, myself. I was so heavy-witted I never once thought of Edward. He must have taken the bills out of the purse and then crammed them in his pocket while he was waiting there on the lounge and I was pretending to telephone and—
But it's best as it is—oh, so best! Think, Mag! Two people who knew her—who knew her, mind—believed in Nancy Olden, in spite of appearances: Obermuller, while we were in the thick of it, and; you, you dear girl, while I was telling you of it.
XII.
When Obermuller sent for me I thought he wanted to see me about that play he's writing in which I'm to star—when the pigs begin to fly.