--and she'd have
gone to jail and been hanged--or something. Wouldn't she?"

"Hardly that bad. But it was fortunate that you were there. It made the
establishing of the alibi a very simple matter. And you say your
sister--Mrs. Lawrence--is nervous at night?"

"Oh! fearfully. She's just like all women--scared of rats, scared of the
dark, scared of being alone--perfectly disgusting, I call it."

"Quite a few women are that way, though--"

"I'm not. I'm scared of snakes and flying bugs and things like that. But
I don't get scared of the dark--pff! Who's going to hurt you? That's what
I always say. I believe in figuring things out, don't you I read in a
book once where--"

"But maybe you do Mrs. Lawrence an injustice. Maybe she isn't as afraid
at night as you imagine."

"She is, too."

"Yet you say she let you spend the night at Miss Gresham's house when
Mr. Lawrence was out of the city and there wasn't anybody on the place
but the servants--"

"Worse than that: the servants don't even live on the place. She spent
the night here all alone--!"

"Then all I'll say is that she is a brave woman. When did Mr. Lawrence
get back from Nashville?"

"Oh! not until ten o'clock the following morning. And believe me, he was
all excited when he read about Roland in the papers. Poor Roland! If you
were only a girl, Mr. Carroll--you'd know how terrible it is to have a
man who's crazy about you and engaged to your best friend and
everything--go and get himself murdered. Why, when I read the papers that
morning, I couldn't hardly believe my own eyes. I just said to myself 'it
can't be!' I said it over and over again just like that. Having faith, I
think they call it. I was reading in a book once about having faith--"

She talked interminably. Carroll ceased to hear the plangent voice. He
was thinking of what she had just told him--thinking earnestly. He knew
he was desperately anxious to have a talk with the Lawrences, to talk
things over in a casual manner. And tonight was his opportunity. He knew
he'd never have another like it. He didn't want to be forced to seek them
out in his capacity of detective.

From somewhere in the rear of the house he heard the clamor of a
doorbell, then the sound of footsteps in the hall, the opening and
closing of the front door--and then Naomi Lawrence appeared in the music
room. Carroll could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling with
amusement as she addressed Evelyn--pointedly ignoring him