"It doesn't matter what you prefer," snapped her husband coldly. "Carroll forced himself upon us for that purpose—with a lack of decency which one might have expected. Let him have his say."
Carroll gazed squarely at Lawrence. "I'm sorry," he said, "that you see fit to act as you are doing."
"I asked for no criticism of my conduct."
"Just the same, dear—" started Naomi, when her husband interrupted angrily—
"Nor any apologies to him from you, Naomi. Carroll has placed himself beyond the pale by what he has done in having the impertinence to foist himself upon us as a social equal. Now, Carroll—are you ready with your little catechism?"
"Yes." The detective's voice was quite calm. "I'm quite ready."
"Well—ask." Lawrence paused. "You did come here to inquire about
Warren, didn't you?"
Carroll could not forbear a dig: "I trust that you are not putting it upon me to deny your statement to that effect."
"I don't give a damn what you deny or affirm."
"Good! Then we know all about each other, don't we. You know that I am a detective in search of information and I know absolutely what you are!" That dart went home—Lawrence squirmed. "So I'll come right to the point. Is it not a fact that you were in this city at the hour Roland Warren is supposed to have been killed?"