She shook her head piteously. "No—there was a man here—and with me."
"Ah, you confess it then," cried he, as if her admission made what he knew more heinous. "Who was this man? Confess all!"
"He—he—wanted help—asked for money. He saw me in the play at Boone's Bar—and thinking me richer than I am, asked me for money."
Harding laughed scornfully. "And do you expect me to believe this?"
"It is true," she hurried on nervously. "He said he was desperate and must have money to get away."
"Had he any claim upon you?" he asked, scanning her with cold, searching eyes.
She hesitated and made answer, "No—none."
"Yet he pushed his demand with eloquence?"
"He did."
"And with success?"