“I do,” he said readily.
“Well, you’re wrong,” she assured him, “I have only to tell them the truth about the necklace and what I’m doing here—”
“But the truth is so seldom believed,” he reminded her, “especially when you’ve no evidence to support it. A lie is a much more easily digested morsel.”
“All the evidence I need,” she asserted, “is in that locked drawer.”
“Quite so,” he admitted. “I’d forgotten that, only it happens you’re wrong again.” He drew the necklace from his pocket and showed it to her. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
Moving over to the table he scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Manufacturing evidence,” he returned calmly.
“Meanwhile,” she said, gathering courage, “I propose to leave this room.”
“An excellent idea from your way of thinking,” he said, looking up. “Naturally I’m interested to know how.”