There were many obscure points which he felt that she could make plain, and she spoke without reserve of the events that had brought her into the case. He interrupted seldom, letting her tell the things in her own way until she was finished.

“I must have seemed a brute to you,” he said. “I know now⁠—I was perhaps able to guess a little even then⁠—that you were shielding someone. I thought⁠—God forgive me⁠—that you might even be in love with Larry Hughes. I had found your photograph in his room, and like a mad fool I jumped to conclusions.”

“You weren’t,” she retorted with a faint pressure of his hand. “I can’t reproach you with anything. You had to do your duty and you acted like a chivalrous gentleman. My dear, I felt the meanest creature on earth when you would not lock me up. As for the photograph I haven’t the faintest doubt that he stole it, or perhaps he got it from Mrs. Gertstein. Now there are one or two things I want to ask you, if you will tell me.”