be scandal if I got mixed up in the case as a witness, or anything like that."
"I can readily understand his feelings." Vance nodded sympathetically. "And who, by the bye, is this luckiest of men?"
"Say! You're good." She complimented him with a coy moue. "But I'm not announcing my engagement yet."
"Don't be horrid," begged Vance. "You know perfectly well that I could find out his name by making a few inquiries. And if you drove me to learn the facts elsewhere, then my promise to keep your name a secret would no longer bind me."
Miss La Fosse considered this point.
"I guess you could find out, all right . . . so I might as well tell you—only I'm trusting to your word to protect me." She opened her eyes wide and gave Vance a melting look. "I know you wouldn't let me down."
"My dear Miss La Fosse!" His tone was one of pained surprise.
"Well, my fiancé is Mr. Mannix, and he's the head of a big fur-importing house. . . . You see"—she became clingingly confidential—"Louey—that is, Mr. Mannix—used to go round with Margy. That's why he didn't want me to get mixed up in the affair. He said the police might bother him with questions, and his name might get into the papers. And that would hurt his commercial standing."
"I quite understand," murmured Vance. "And do you happen to know where Mr. Mannix was Monday night?"
The girl looked startled.
