less I receive a straight answer to them I shall report you to the police. You will, I assure you, receive no consideration at their hands."
The woman tightened her lips stubbornly and shifted her eyes, unable to meet Vance's penetrating stare.
"You told me once that your husband died in New Orleans thirteen years ago. Is that correct?"
Vance's question seemed to relieve her mind, and she answered readily.
"Yes, yes. Thirteen years ago."
"What month?"
"In October."
"Had he been ill long?"
"About a year."
"What was the nature of his illness?"
Now a look of fright came into her eyes.
"I—don't know—exactly," she stammered. "The doctors didn't let me see him."
"He was in a hospital?"
She nodded several times rapidly. "Yes—a hospital."
"And I believe you told me, Frau Mannheim, that you saw Mr. Tobias Greene a year before your husband's death. That would have been about the time your husband entered the hospital—fourteen years ago."
She looked vaguely at Vance, but made no reply.
"And it was exactly fourteen years ago that Mr. Greene adopted Ada."
The woman caught her breath sharply. A look of panic contorted her face.
"So when your husband died," continued Vance,
