"I assure you I'm serious."
"I know it. And anyway, I was thinking of running out for a minute—and I suppose this is a good chance. Of course, I'd stay and see you if you wanted—but I suppose you've got something terribly dry to discuss and so—"
She left the room and Carroll heaved a sigh of infinite relief. A few minutes later the hall door swung back and Naomi and Evelyn entered. He was immensely relieved to see that the youngster was cloaked for the street and murmured a few idle words to her before she went. And until the front door banged behind her he remained standing before the fireplace, his eyes focused on the tragic figure of Naomi.
She faced him bravely enough, but in her eyes he read the message of knowledge. There was no need for words between them. She knew why he had come—and he knew that she knew.
"Sit down, please, Mr. Carroll."
He waited until she had seated herself and then followed suit. He controlled his voice with an effort—his words came softly, reassuringly.
"I'm sorry I've come this way, Mrs. Lawrence. I've come—"
"I know why you have come, Mr. Carroll. You need not mince matters."
He drew a long breath. "Isn't it true, Mrs. Lawrence, that you were the woman in the taxi-cab the night Mr. Warren was killed?"
She inclined her head. "Yes."