“It’s most ungallant of you, Mr. Markham,” she reprimanded him coyly, “to inquire into the personal relations of an engaged couple; for I am betrothed to Captain Leacock—though you probably know it already.”
Markham stood up, controlling himself with effort.
“Am I to understand that you refuse to answer any of my questions, or to endeavor to extricate yourself from the very serious position you are in?”
She appeared to consider.
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I haven’t anything I care especially to say just now.”
Markham leaned over and rested both hands on the desk.
“Do you realize the possible consequences of your attitude?” he asked ominously. “The facts I know regarding your connection with the case, coupled with your refusal to offer a single extenuating explanation, give me more grounds than I actually need to order your being held.”
I was watching her closely as he spoke, and it seemed to me that her eyelids drooped involuntarily the merest fraction of an inch. But she gave no other indication of being affected by the pronouncement, and merely looked at the District Attorney with an air of defiant amusement.
Markham, with a sudden contraction of the jaw, turned and reached toward a bell-button beneath the edge of his desk. But, in doing so, his glance fell upon Vance; and he paused indecisively. The look he had encountered on the other’s face was one of reproachful amazement: not only did it express complete surprise at his apparent decision, but it stated, more eloquently than words could have done, that he was about to commit an act of irreparable folly.
There were several moments of tense silence in the room. Then calmly and unhurriedly Miss St. Clair opened her vanity-case and powdered her nose. When she had finished, she turned a serene gaze upon the District Attorney.