He saw Garry's eyes dart to the door behind which the sister was seated.
"What did she give herself up for, Carroll?"
"For killing Roland Warren."
Gresham took a firm grip on himself. "She didn't do it," he stated positively.
"Of course not," returned Carroll with equal assurance. "You did! And so that you will be quite convinced that I am not trying to trick you into the confession which I am sure you will make—" He crossed the room and flung open the door. "Come in, please, Miss Gresham."
The girl entered quietly—then saw her brother. Instantly her manner softened. She stepped swiftly to his side and took his hand in hers. "Please, Garry—"
Gresham smiled; a tender, affectionate smile.
"Good scout, aren't you, Sis? But tell me," his tone was conversational, "how did you know that I shot Roland Warren?"
"You didn't!" She flung around on Carroll—"Don't believe him. I shot
Mr. Warren—"
"I knew from the first that you didn't do it, Miss Gresham. I know that Miss Rogers spent the night with you. More than that, I know the identity of the woman in the taxicab."
"Who was she?" It was Gresham who questioned.