The shot told. Pearl Jane went white, and her hands clenched as she struggled to preserve her composure.
She thought quickly but steadily. Her brain was clear, though her nerves were jumping. But she had one fixed principle to follow. Tommy had told her to tell the truth. He had emphasized that. So she did.
She parried only a moment. “Is that a statement or a question?” she said.
Lane stared at her. She certainly was surprising.
“I’ll make it a question,” he said; “do you think Mr. Locke killed Mrs. Barham?”
“It’s hard to answer,” she said, with a thoughtful look. “I can’t think it—and yet—yes, I do suspect him.”
“And you still deem him an honorable man?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do honorable men commit murder?”
“That question I can’t answer. I dare say they have done so.”
“Well, Miss Cutler, this talk gets us nowhere. Now, for facts. What makes you suspect Mr. Locke?”
“Only because I saw him go downstairs and out of his front door. Then, when I immediately afterward went up the back stairs, I saw the body of Mrs. Barham there on the floor.”
“And so you concluded Mr. Locke had killed her?”
“I don’t say I concluded that. I say I suspected it.”
“Why should he kill her?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“You’re sure you didn’t kill her yourself?”
Pearl Jane allowed herself the slightest glimmer of a smile, as she replied: “I’m positive of that.”
“Well you ought to know. And you still love and respect Mr. Locke, even if he is a murderer?”
“Oh, he isn’t that.”
