"Whoever has said that tells wicked lies," was her quick response.
"You were in Digby's room that night—after I left," I declared.
"How do you know."
"Because the police have photographs of your finger-prints," was my quiet reply.
The effect of my words upon her was electrical.
"The police!" she gasped, her face instantly pale as death. "Do they know?"
"Inspector Edwards is in possession of your finger-prints," I replied briefly.
"Then—then they will suspect me!" she shrieked in despair. "Ah! Teddy! If you love me, save me!"
And she flung herself wildly at my feet, clutching my hands and raising her face to mine in frantic appeal.
"For that very reason I have returned here to you to-day, Phrida," I replied in a low tone of sympathy. "If I can save you from being implicated in this terrible affair, I will. But you must tell me the whole truth from the start. Then I may be able to devise a plan to ensure your security."