she may have kept it. It is also possible”—Roberts seemed desperately earnest in her effort to strengthen each link in her accusation, for she was accusing rather than simply offering a theory—“that someone may recently have given her a revolver, isn’t it?”
“Everything is possible.”
“ Mr. Hollander, for example?”
“A very good example.”
He said nothing further, and after a while the stillness became almost physically oppressive. Roberts was finished with emotions. “Is that all?” she said, and her voice was colourless.
“I believe so, Miss Roberts—except that I wish you would tell me why, in view of your recent insinuations concerning Mrs. Endicott and Hollander, you ever suggested him as the proper friend to stay with her husband tonight. It’s a little inconsistent, don’t you think?”
“Very.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I have nothing further to say.”
Lieutenant Valcour went abruptly to the door and opened it. Cassidy and Hansen were standing near by in the corridor.
“Hansen,” he said, “go with Miss Roberts up to her room. There is a gun in her trunk. She will give it to you. Keep it for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Roberts went outside.
“Am I to consider myself under arrest, Lieutenant?”