who brought him. We weren’t strong enough to tell him the whole story.”
“You mean you told him part of it?”
“There has been a virtual separation ever since Mr. Tremaine appeared.”
Godfrey paused reflectively.
“Why were you so agitated,” he continued finally, “when you were asked to identify Jimmy the Dude at the inquest?”
“Because I did identify him.”
“You did?”
“Yes—as the man I had seen talking to the janitor in the lower hall. Let me explain, Mr. Godfrey. When I was asked suddenly for a description of the murderer, I was taken aback; I endeavoured to think, to collect myself—and I remembered the man I had passed in the hall. Without stopping to consider—wishing only to disarm suspicion—I described him roughly as I remembered him. When I was confronted with him at the inquest next day, I instantly realised what I had done—I had implicated an innocent man—and it turned me a little faint for a moment.”
“Had you ever met him?”
“Met him?” she repeated in surprise. “Why, no.”
“But he seemed to know you.”
“Oh!” and she laughed again. “I had a letter from him next day—a letter filled with gratitude—touching even. It seems that my sister and I had helped his family—a mother and sister—without knowing it, while he was away”
“At Sing-Sing—he’s the most expert burglar in
