“You’ve got your wish. Just at present the police are after you.”
“Mercy—what have I done?”
“I leave that to you. Think over your sins, and report here at two o’clock. Miss Morrow wants to question you.”
“She does, eh? Well, I’m not afraid of her.”
“All right. Only come.”
“I shall have to leave early. I promised to go to a lecture—”
“Never mind. You’ll leave when the law has finished with you. I suggest that you come prepared to tell the truth. If you do, I may yet be able to keep you out of jail.”
“You can’t frighten me. I’ll come—but only from curiosity. I should like to see that young woman in action. I haven’t a doubt in the world but what I can hold my own.”
“I heard different,” replied Kirk. “Remember—two o’clock. Sharp!”
He hung up the receiver and waited impatiently for the hour of the conflict. At a quarter before two Miss Morrow arrived on the scene.
“This is a strange turn,” she said, when Kirk had taken her coat. “So your grandmother knows Jennie Jerome Marie Lantelme?”
“Knows her!” replied Kirk. “They’re great friends.” He handed over the letter. “Read that. Vouches for her in every way. Good old grandmother!”
Miss Morrow smiled. “I must handle her gently,” she remarked. “Somehow, I don’t believe she approves of me.”
“She’s reached the age where she doesn’t approve of anybody,” Kirk explained. “Not even of me. A fine noble character, as you well know. Yet she discovers flaws. Can you imagine!”
“Absurd,” cried Miss Morrow.
“Don’t be too nice to her,” Kirk suggested. “She’ll like you better if you walk all over her. Some people are made that way.”
Charlie entered from his room. “Ah, Miss Morrow. Again you add decoration to the scene. Am I wrong in presuming that Captain Flannery has apprehended Eve Durand?”
“If you mean the elevator girl, you are quite wrong. Not a trace of her. You still think she was Eve Durand?”
“If she wasn’t, then I must bow my head in sackcloth and ashes,” Chan replied.
“Well, that’s no place for anybody’s head,” Kirk remarked.
“None the less, mine has been there,” Chan grinned.
Mrs. Dawson Kirk bustled in. “Here I am, on time to the minute. Please make a note of that.”
“Hello,” Kirk greeted her. “You remember Miss Morrow, of course.”
“Oh, yes—the lawyer. How do you do. And Mr. Chan—look here, why haven’t you solved this case?”
“A little more patience,” grinned Chan. “We are getting warm now. You are under hovering cloud of suspicion at last.”
“So I hear,” snapped the old lady. She turned to Miss Morrow. “Well, my dear, Barry said you wanted to cross-question me.”
“Nothing cross about it,” Miss Morrow said, with a smile. “Just a few polite questions.”
“Oh, really. Don’t be too polite. I’m always suspicious of too polite people. You don’t think I killed poor Sir Frederic, I hope?”
“Not precisely. But you’ve written a letter—”
“I suppose so. Have a habit of writing indiscreet letters. And old habits are hard to break. But I always put ‘burn this’ at the bottom. Somebody has failed to follow my instructions, eh?”
Miss Morrow shook her head. “I believe you omitted that admonition in this case.” She handed the letter to Mrs. Kirk. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Kirk glanced it through. “Certainly I wrote it. What of it?”
“This Grace Lane was a good friend of yours?”
“In a way, yes. Of course, I scarcely knew the girl—”
“Oho,” cried Barry Kirk. “You vouched for her in every way, yet you scarcely knew her.”
“Keep out of this, Barry,” advised the old lady. “You’re not a lawyer. You haven’t the brains.”
“Then you knew Grace Lane only slightly, Mrs. Kirk?” the girl continued.
“That’s what I said.”
“Yet you recommended her without reservation? Why did you do that?”
Mrs. Kirk hesitated. “If you’ll pardon me, I regard it as my own affair.”
“I’m sorry,” Miss Morrow replied quickly, “but you will have to answer. Please do not be deceived by the setting of this interview. It is not a social function. I am acting for the district attorney’s office, and I mean business.”
Mrs. Kirk’s eyes flashed. “I understand. But now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a few questions.”
“You may do so. And when you have finished, I will resume.”
“What has this girl, Grace Lane, to do with the murder of Sir Frederic Bruce?”
“That is what we are trying to determine.”
“You mean she had something to do with it?”
“We believe she had. And that is why your recommendation of her is no longer your own affair, Mrs. Kirk.”
The old lady sat firmly on the edge of her chair. “I shan’t say a word until I know where all this is leading us.”
“It’ll lead you to jail if you don’t stop being stubborn,” suggested Barry Kirk.
“Indeed? Well, I have friends among the lawyers, too. Miss Morrow, I want to know Grace Lane’s connection with Sir Frederic?”
“I have no objection to telling you—if you will keep the matter to yourself.”
“She’s the most indiscreet woman on the west coast,” Kirk warned.
“Hush up, Barry. I can keep still if I have to, Miss Morrow—?”
“When Sir Frederic came here,” Miss Morrow explained, “he was seeking a woman named Eve Durand, who disappeared from India fifteen years ago. We suspect Grace Lane was that woman.”
“Well, why don’t you ask her?”
“We’d be glad to, but we can’t. You see, she’s disappeared again.”
“What! She’s gone?”
“Yes. Now I have answered your questions, and I expect you to do as much for me.” Miss Morrow became again very businesslike. “Grace Lane was undoubtedly brought to you by a third person—a person you trusted. Who was it?”
Mrs. Kirk shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”
“You realize, of course, the seriousness of your refusal?”
“I—well, I—good heavens, what have I got mixed up in, anyhow? A respectable woman like me—”
“Precisely,” said Miss Morrow sternly. “A woman honored throughout the city, a woman prominent in every forward-looking movement—I must say I am surprised, Mrs. Kirk, to find you obstructing the course of justice. And all because
