"Lord, no!" said Billy. "I was his friend, hardly hers, you see."
"Well, if it could be put as a matter of friendship with him?" Louie was speaking almost feverishly now.
"I wish I knew exactly what you meant," said Billy.
"Order me another cup of coffee. That's what I can't tell you, because I don't know myself. But let me ask another question. Do you happen to know whether there are any real names in this thing, whatever it is?"
"Really, I——"
"Just a moment. I'll tell you why I asked. If this is a journal, and has names of people in it, the chances are mine's there."
Billy was quick enough. He nodded. "I see; at least I think I see. You mean about his coming in that night and Mrs. Jeffries possibly not liking it? Well, to tell the truth I don't think she did much. I could have bitten my tongue out when I'd told her; but I suppose everybody doesn't look on these things quite as we do. You mean in a word—excuse me for putting it rather stupidly—that she's jealous and thinks she can find out the truth? Supposing there was any 'truth' to find out, I mean?"
"That's the idea. Of course there was no 'truth.'"
"Well? Why not let her discover that and make her happy, poor thing? You see, he was her husband."
Louie winced, but continued. "That's all right as far as it goes; but if there's one name there are probably others."