er of
the reception hall, and even Evelyn sensed the undercurrent of tenseness
in the air. Her tongue became reluctantly still although she did break in
once with a triumphant--"Ain't he like I told you he was?" to Hazel.

It was Garry who introduced the subject. "Mr. Carroll wants to ask you
something about Roland," he said softly--and Carroll, intercepting the
look which passed between brother and sister, felt a sense of warmth--a
pleasant glow; albeit it was tinged with guilt--as though he had
blundered in on something sacred.

The girl's voice came softly in reply: her gaze unwavering.

"What is it you wish to know, Mr. Carroll?"

The detective was momentarily at a loss. He conscripted his entire store
of tact--"I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, Miss Gresham--"

"This is no time for equivocation, Mr. Carroll. You may ask me whatever
you wish."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully. "You have, of course, heard
that there is a woman connected with Mr. Warren's death--the woman
in the taxicab."

Her face grew pallid, but she nodded. "Yes. Of course."

He watched her closely--"Have you the slightest idea--the vaguest
suspicion--of that woman's identity?"

"No!" she answered--and he knew that she had spoken the truth.

"You have thought of it--of her--a good deal?"

"Naturally."

"Mind you--I'm not asking if you _know_--I'm merely asking if you have a
suspicion."

"I have not--not the faintest."

"You were quite satisfied--pardon the intense personal trend of my
questions, Miss Gresham--that during his engagement to you, Mr. Warren
was--well, that he was carrying on no affair with another woman?"

"I say, Carroll--" It was Garry Gresham who interrupted and his voice
was harsh. But his sister halted him with a little affectionate gesture--

"Mr. Carroll is right, Garry: he must know these things." She turned
again to Carroll. "No, Mr. Carroll--I knew of no such affair--nor did I
suspect one. When I became engaged to Mr. Warren I placed my trust in him
as a gentleman. I still believe in him."

"Yet we _know_ that there _was_ a woman in that cab!"

"No-o. We know that the taxi-driver _says_ there was."

"That's true--"

Hazel Gresham leaned forward: her manner that of a suppliant. "Mr.
Carroll--why don't you abandon this horrible investigation? Why aren't
you content to let matters rest where they are?"

"I couldn't do that, Miss Gresham."

"Why not?"

"Mr. Warren's murderer is still