"Some train came in then—I don't know which one it was."
"Isn't it a fact that the woman who got into the taxicab had been a passenger on that train: that she got off with the other passengers, carrying a suit-case?"
"There ain't nobody can see the passengers get off the trains at the Union Station, Mr. Carroll. You go down them steps and approach the waitin' room underground—crossin' under the tracks."
"But you do know that this woman—whoever she was—passed through the waiting room with the passengers who came on that train, don't you?"
"Yes, sir—she done that, but it don't mean nothin'."
"Why don't it?"
"Well, sir, for one thing—ain't it true that the papers said the suit-case she was carryin' wasn't hers at all. Ain't it a fact that she had Mr. Warren's suit-case?"
"Well?" Carroll saw his last hope glimmering.
"You see, sir—Mr. Warren was meetin' Mrs. Lawrence at the station. He got there with his suit-case at about ten minutes to twelve. She got there about ten or fifteen minutes later—"
"How did she come?"