“The man was Jim Dacey, a very good friend of mine,” said Kate. “That’s why he came to tell me that he had seen a car thought to be yours at the Darling residence. He even went and looked up the number, to be sure of it.”
“But why did he hasten to inform you?”
“He feared that I might be involved in some way because of my relations with Darling, so he came to put me on my guard,” Kate glibly explained. “But there was no occasion, not the slightest occasion.”
“Indeed?”
“Not the slightest,” Kate forcibly repeated.
“Who is this man, Dacey, and where does he hang out?” Nick then inquired, not yet in a position to contradict the woman. “Why was he going to the Darling residence? What is his interest there? Why did he——”
“Stop a moment!” Kate exclaimed, lurching forward in her chair. “What do you think I am, Carter, an information bureau? I’ll stand for this no longer. I don’t know what you suspect, nor care, and you evidently don’t intend to enlighten me. It’s a mighty poor rule that won’t work both ways. I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you. If you want to learn more of Cyrus Darling, or of Jim Dacey, or of Sheldon and Floyd—go and question them. You’ll get no more out of me.”
Nick saw that she meant it.
“Wait and see,” he remarked, rising.
“I can wait,” Kate retorted. “Go elsewhere with your questions.”