"
"And in that house on Wray Street where I met you again last night. I
suppose you were not there either?"
"Wray Street? I do not know; I was at some place with a saloon on the
ground floor. I could not tell you where it was."
"That is where it was--Wray Street, on the northwest side, a thieves'
rendezvous. And you talked with me there; tried to get me to quit
following you. You surely haven't forgotten that already?"
She dropped her face wearily into her hands, and her voice
sounded listless.
"I--I almost believe you are the crazy one, Captain West. I swear I have
never knowingly met, or spoken to you since we drove to that cottage on
Sunday. I cannot believe what you say."
"Yet it is true, every word true"; he asserted stoutly. "Why else should
I be here? You returned with us to 'Fairlawn,' and we chatted together
pleasantly all the way. Later you seemed to change, and discharged me
rather rudely. Then Percival Coolidge was killed--shot down by an
assassin, not a suicide. I know because I found the body. You were at the
inquest, and testified. I saw you with my own eyes. The next day you
discharged Sexton, and later he learned, and reported to me, that some
one called you on the phone from Wray Street, and wanted you to come over
there at once."
"Was that why you went there?"
"Yes; I felt something was wrong; the killing of Percival Coolidge had
aroused my suspicions; and I sought to learn who those people were you
had visited in the cottage.
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