“I neither wore gloves nor killed Harrison!”
“Oh, you won’t ruin us!” wept Anita. “We didn’t do it! We know n-nothing about the murder—”
“Look here,” Allen interrupted. “You’d rather have the real murderer than a miscarriage of justice for the sake of a conviction, wouldn’t you? You don’t want to ruin two innocent people and let the real murderer escape, do you?”
“Who did kill Harrison?” asked Bernard dryly.
“I haven’t the faintest idea!”
Bernard stared at Allen fixedly, then shrugged his shoulders.
“Mr. Landis is in charge of the case!” he growled.
Landis got up.
“I want you two to go back to your rooms and stay there the rest of the night,” he told them quietly. “We’ll say nothing at the inquest of what you have told us, provided you tell us the exact truth in future. Is that a bargain?”