before. Don’t scream, or burst into tears, for if you do I shall only wait till you’re over it.”
“Aren’t you perfectly horrid!” and the gray eyes flashed angrily at him.
“Yes, I have to be—to keep you from being so! Go on, now, answer that question, so we can go on to the next.”
“I didn’t take anything”
“Look here, my dear young lady, let me say from the start, falsehoods are barred. If you’re just going to tell stories, you can tell them to some one else. I’ve no time nor inclination for anything but the truth. I think I’d better take you over to the police station for a hearing.”
“No, no—I’ll tell the truth. But—but skip that question—ask me the next one?”
“This is the next,” and Hutchins looked grave. “Did you kill Mrs. Barham?”
“No, no, no!” and again hysterics were imminent.
But the face she raised to Hutchins was so imploring, and withal so appealingly sorrowful, that Hutchins was forced to modify his manner a little.
“I don’t believe you did,” he said, heartily, after a deep look into her eyes, “now, have you any idea who did?”
“That I refuse to answer,” and now the eyes flashed. “You can take me to the station or to prison or you can take me to the electric chair—but I shall never tell you if I suspect any one—any one at all!”
She lay back in her chair rather exhausted at the vehemence of her own speech.
She looked very young, she seemed very alone—but underneath her young helplessness there seemed to be a strong power of will that Hutchins began to see was unbreakable.
