“Please, Miss Dillard! There’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re merely striving to eliminate certain remote possibilities in connection with our investigation.—Tell me: could any one have taken your key last night?”
“No one,” she answered uneasily. “I went to the theatre at eight o’clock, and had my bag with me the entire time.”
“When did you last make use of the key?”
“After dinner last night. I ran over to see how Lady Mae was and to say good-night.”
Vance frowned slightly. I could see that this information did not square with some theory he had formed.
“You made use of the key after dinner,” he recapitulated, “and kept it with you in your hand-bag the rest of the evening, without letting it once go out of your sight.—Is that right, Miss Dillard?”
The girl nodded.
“I even held the bag in my lap during the play,” she amplified.
Vance regarded the hand-bag thoughtfully.
“Well,” he said lightly, “so ends the romance of the key.—And now we’re going to bother your uncle again. Do you think you’d better act as our avant-courier; or shall we storm the citadel unannounced?”