“Yes, if we knew where he had gotten it and how it came to be in his pocket,” responded Maynard. “Perhaps I had better give this piece to the coroner. Where did you get it?”
“It came off one of my packages, you remember,” she answered. “You helped me carry the bundles out of the taxi-cab.”
“That’s so.” Maynard again took out his pencil and envelope. “Where did you shop that day?”
“Let me see—Woodward and Lothrop’s, Huyler’s; oh, but what is the use of going on with the list, the only packages which had come untied were some writing paper, a box of candy, and a package of papers belonging to Marian Van Ness.”
A shadow fell across the envelope and Maynard looked up from his writing. Marian Van Ness stood at his elbow.
“I never saw two such absorbed people,” she remarked as he rose. “I saw you from the sidewalk, Evelyn, and called to you, then in desperation walked across the grass. If I am arrested for trespass by the park policeman you will have to bail me out.”
“Take my seat,” and Maynard stepped back from the bench, but Marian shook her head.
“I can’t loiter for I have an appointment at the hair-dresser’s across the street,” she said. “I am late now.”
“Wait, Marian, and I’ll go with you, I have so much to tell you,” Evelyn sprang up and promptly dropped the string; before she could stoop for it Maynard had picked it up.
“Shall I keep it or will you?” he asked. He held the string toward Evelyn but his eyes never left Marian who looked mildly curious as her glance fell on the dangling string.