"Meanwhile—you are welcome here whenever you wish to call. Perhaps—by talking to me—you yourself may establish the alibi which I know I have, but cannot prove."
Carroll rose and bowed. "Thank you. And now—I'll go. If you will express my regrets to Miss Rogers—"
Naomi accompanied him to the door. She extended her hand—"You're wrong,
Mr. Carroll", she murmured. "Quite wrong!"
"You are sure?"
"I know! I really believe his story."
"I hope to—soon. But just now, Mrs. Lawrence—" He saw tears in her fine eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me if he is innocent."
She pressed his hand gratefully, and then closed the door. Carroll, inhaling the bracing air of the winter night, proceeded briskly to the curb. Then, standing with one foot on the running board of his car, he stared peculiarly at the big white house standing starkly in the moonlight—
"I wonder," he mused softly—"I wonder—"