ced. My impulse to go out and meet her was forestalled by the
detectives, who rose when I did. McKnight, therefore, brought her in,
and I met her at the door.

"I have put you to a great deal of trouble," I said contritely, when I
saw her glance around the room. "I wish I had not--"

"It is only right that I should come," she replied, looking up at me.
"I am the unconscious cause of most of it, I am afraid. Mrs. Dallas is
going to wait in the outer office."

I presented Hotchkiss and the two detectives, who eyed her with
interest. In her poise, her beauty, even in her gown, I fancy she
represented a new type to them. They remained standing until she sat
down.

"I have brought the necklace," she began, holding out a white-wrapped
box, "as you asked me to."

I passed it, unopened, to the detectives. "The necklace from which was
broken the fragment you found in the sealskin bag," I explained. "Miss
West found it on the floor of the car, near lower ten."

"When did you find it?" asked the lean detective, bending forward.

"In the morning, not long before the wreck."

"Did you ever see it before?"

"I am not certain," she replied. "I have seen one very much like it."
Her tone was troubled. She glanced at me as if for help, but I was
powerless.

"Where?" The detective was watching her closely. At that moment there
came an interruption. The door opened without ceremony, and Johnson
ushered in a tall, blond man, a stranger to all of us: I glanced at
Alison; she was pale, but composed and scornful. She met the new-comer's
eyes full, and, caught unawares, he took a hasty backward step.

"Sit down, Mr. Sullivan," McKnight beamed cordially. "Have a cigar? I
beg your pardon, Alison, do you mind this smoke?"

"Not at all," she said composedly. Sullivan had had a second to sound
his bearings.

"No--no, thanks," he mumbled. "If you will be good enough to explain--"

"But that's what you're to do," McKnight said cheerfully, pulling up a
chair. "You've got the most attentive audience you could ask. These two
gentlemen are detectives from Pittsburg, and we are all curious to know
the finer details of what happened on the car Ontario two weeks ago, the
night your father-in-law was murdered." Sullivan gripped the arms of his
chair. "We are not prejudiced, either. The gentlemen from Pittsburg are
betting on Mr. Blakeley, over there. Mr. Hotchkiss, the gentleman by the
radiator, is ready to place ten to one odds on you. And s