"My theories do hold water," was the stern reply. "Better for you, you blockhead, if they didn't."
Goddard's face went white. "By heavens! I allow no one to address me in that way. If it wasn't for our long friendship...."; his clenched hands finished the sentence.
"It is owing to our old friendship that I haven't had you arrested, Bob," Lloyd spoke more quietly, realizing he had gone a step too far.
"Then explain what your insinuations mean."
"I will. Half an hour ago you were in front of Old Capitol Prison"—Goddard nodded assent—"helping the sentry make that woman behave herself. Well, it was all a plant."
"A plant?"
"Yes. While you and the sentry were engaged with that woman, Nancy Newton was signaling from an opposite doorway to another prisoner in the same row."
Goddard gazed incredulously at Lloyd. "How do you know?"
"I was following you both down the street, and saw the whole affair. I was too far away to interfere, and by the time I had reached the prison you and your companion were a block away." Goddard stood biting his lip, so Lloyd, after waiting for a reply, continued: "The comedy was well played. Your presence but added realism to it in case passers-by noticed the scene. In some way, she and the woman arranged to engage the sentry's attention while she signaled to the other prisoner; and there you are."
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Goddard; then added stubbornly: "Mind you, Lloyd, I am still convinced Miss Newton is innocent of the grave charge you bring against her. Many Washingtonians have been arrested for various offences and put in the Old Capitol; possibly one of them is a friend of Miss Newton's, and, seeing her standing opposite the prison, seized the opportunity to wave to her." But Lloyd remained obstinately silent, and Goddard repeated his first question, "What are you going to do about it?"