Cafe de Paris instead and spent the evening there. I was pretty sure he
was telling the truth, for Addison isn't clever and I usually know when
he's lying, although I don't tell him so; but this was such an awful thing
that I couldn't take chances, so I said: 'Addison, put your things right
on, we're going to the Cafe de Paris.' 'What for?' said he. 'To settle this
business,' said I. And off we went and got there at half past one; but the
waiters hadn't gone, and they all swore black and blue that Addison told
the truth, he had really been there all the evening with this woman. And
_that_," she concluded triumphantly, "is how I know my husband is
innocent."

[Illustration: "'They all swore black and blue that Addison told the
truth.'"]

"Hm!" reflected Coquenil. "I wonder why Anita changed her mind?"

"I'm not responsible for Anita," answered Pussy with a dignified whisk of
her shoulders.

"No, of course not, of course not," he murmured absently; then, after a
moment's thought, he said gravely: "I never really doubted your husband's
innocence, now I'm sure of it; unfortunately, this does not lessen your
responsibility; you were in the room, you witnessed the crime; in fact, you
were the only witness."

"But I know nothing about it, nothing," she protested.

"You know a great deal about this young man who is in prison."

"I know he is innocent."

Coquenil took off his glasses and rubbed them with characteristic
deliberation. "I hope you can prove it."

"Of course I can prove it," she declared. "M. Kittredge was arrested
because he called for my things, but I asked him to do that. I was in
terrible trouble and--he was an old friend and--and I knew I could depend
on him. He had no reason to kill Martinez. It's absurd!"

"I'm afraid it's not so absurd as you think. You say he was an old friend,
he must have been a _very particular kind_ of an old friend for you to ask
a favor of him that you knew and he knew would bring him under suspicion.
You did know that, didn't you?"

"Why--er--yes."

"I don't ask what there was between you and M. Kittredge, but if there had
been _everything_ between you he couldn't have done more, could he? And he
couldn't have done less. So a jury might easily conclude, in the absence of
contrary evidence, that there was everything between you."

"It's false," she cried, while Coquenil with keen discernment watched the
outward signs of her trouble, the clinching of her hands, the hea