"I wish you'd get me a cigarette, Chet." Her tone made the request an imperative.
Vance rose at once and held out his case.
"Do try one of these Régies, Miss Greene," he urged in his best drawing-room manner. "If you say you don't like them, I shall immediately change my brand."
"Rash man!" Sibella took a cigarette and permitted Vance to light it for her. Then she settled back in her chair and gave Markham a quizzical look. "Quite a wild party we pulled here last night, wasn't it? We've never had so much commotion in the old mansion. And it was just my luck to sleep soundly through it all." She made an aggrieved moue. "Chet didn't call me till it was all over. Just like him—he has a nasty disposition."
Somehow her flippancy did not shock me as it might have done in a different type of person. But Sibella struck me as a girl who, though she might feel things keenly, would not permit any misfortune to get the better of her; and I put her apparent callousness down to a dogged, if perverted, courageousness.
Markham, however, resented her attitude.
"One cannot blame Mr. Greene for not taking the matter lightly," he reproved her. "The brutal murder of a defenseless woman and the attempted murder of a young girl hardly come under the head of diversion."
Sibella looked at him reproachfully. "You know, Mr. Markham, you sound exactly like the Mother Superior of the stuffy convent I was confined in for two years." She became suddenly grave. "Why
