"Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!"
He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes.
"There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers.
"Then why ask it?" she said.
"Why,—because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,—between five and six o'clock?"
"I wish you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me—" she complained.
She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair.
"You must answer my question, come—where were you?" Langham commanded.
He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light.
"How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,—that we dined with your father."