guising the shock that Markham's accusation caused him.
"If that's what you think, then it happens you don't know, after all. I haven't put foot in her apartment for two weeks."
"I have the testimony of reliable witnesses to the contrary."
"Witnesses!" The word seemed to force itself from Cleaver's compressed lips.
Markham nodded. "You were seen coming out of Miss Odell's apartment and leaving the house by the side door at five minutes to twelve on Monday night."
Cleaver's jaw sagged slightly, and his labored breathing was quite audible.
"And between half past eleven and twelve o'clock," pursued Markham's relentless voice, "Miss Odell was strangled and robbed.—What do you say to that?"
For a long time there was tense silence. Then Cleaver spoke.
"I've got to think this thing out."
Markham waited patiently. After several minutes Cleaver drew himself together and squared his shoulders.
"I'm going to tell you what I did that night, and you can take it or leave it." Again he was the cold, self-contained gambler. "I don't care how many witnesses you've got; it's the only story you'll ever get out of me. I should have told you in the first place, but I didn't see any sense of stepping into hot water if I wasn't pushed in. You might have believed me last Tuesday, but now you've got something in your head, and you want to make an arrest to shut up the newspapers"
