Prosper Craven, pale, yet composed, opened the door of his house in response to Nick Carter's knock. "I have been expecting you," he said, when the detective had entered the living-room and had taken a seat. "I knew you would not be satisfied until you had learned what my attorney had advised."
"You have seen him, then?" said Nick.
"No, I have not seen him. I came to the conclusion, after you left yesterday, that I would hide nothing from you. I think the telling of the truth may be the best thing for my daughter, after all."
"Your daughter is Mannion's wife, is she not?"
Craven, showing surprise at this question, quietly answered: "Yes, she is married to that scoundrel."
"When did the marriage take place?"
"In San Francisco, two months ago. My daughter was then on a visit to her aunt. She and Mannion met at a Mission Club dance one night and took a shine to each other. Perhaps the discovery that they were both natives of Washington may have hastened the intimacy."
"Did she accompany her husband to this city?"
"No, she came as far as St. Louis with him. He had some business to transact in that city, he said, which would occupy his time for a few weeks. It was at his suggestion that she made the remainder of the journey alone. Now I am ready to answer any question which you may desire to ask."
"Very well. To begin, what was your business with Mannion on the day of the murder?"