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fascinated, and to my surprise he walked straight up to her.
“If you don’t mind, Miss Telfair,” he said, “we will go back to your story for a moment.”
“Yes,” breathed Mary Will. All color was gone from her face.
“Your room up-stairs—it’s the blue room to the left, on the second floor?”
“It is.”
“When you went up to get the smelling-salts for Mrs. Drew—you took the time to go first to your own room—didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“You wanted to hide something?”
“Yes.”
“Something you had picked up from the side of the dead man in the dining-room?” Mary Will nodded; her face was the color of that tablecloth old Drew had seized in his last moment of life. “You don’t seem to be up on this sort of thing, my girl,” Barnes went on. “Under
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