of that before. What makes you think I took anything from the dead woman?”
“You were seen to do so.”
“By that lying Chinaman! I refuse to answer if he is your informant.”
“But he saw you—he was directly behind you. You leaned over and took the thing—and in so doing you touched your sleeve to her wounded forehead, thus making the smear which you afterward washed out.”
“No, you are all wrong—I did none of those things.”
“Then—then you won’t mind if I look about a bit for it? You see, if I look through your place and announce that I can’t find it—they won’t send somebody else to look—somebody with a warrant.”
He hated to frighten the poor child, but it had to be done. He had learned the most effective way to deal with her.
“Look through my things!” she cried, staring at him.
“Yes; if you haven’t it—as you say you haven’t—you can have no objection—and truly, if I don’t, some one else will.”
“Go ahead,” she said, and sat watching him.
In a perfunctory fashion, Hutchins pulled open a few drawers of her writing desk and work table. He wasn’t really looking, he was watching her face hoping to learn from its expression what way to turn.
Nor was he in error. She fell easily into his trap. With no thought of being studied, Pearl Jane did all he could hope for. When he was looking in some places, she drew a long breath of contentment and satisfaction. Again, her breath would come quickly, her eyes turn dark with apprehension and her tightly clasped hands tremble.
So, he knew at last, that what he sought was—must be, in an upper drawer of an old secretary. He reached up
