owned just such a pistol as Mr. Benson was killed with—a forty-five army Colt automatic?"
At the mention of her fiancé's name she stiffened perceptibly and caught her breath. The part she had been playing fell from her, and a faint flush suffused her cheeks and extended to her forehead. But almost immediately she had reassumed her rôle of playful indifference.
"I never inquired into the make or calibre of Captain Leacock's fire-arms," she returned carelessly.
"And is it not a fact," pursued Markham's imperturbable voice, "that Captain Leacock lent you his pistol when he called at your apartment on the morning before the murder?"
"It's most ungallant of you, Mr. Markham," she reprimanded him coyly, "to inquire into the personal relations of an engaged couple; for I am betrothed to Captain Leacock—though you probably know it already."
Markham stood up, controlling himself with effort.
"Am I to understand that you refuse to answer any of my questions, or to endeavor to extricate yourself from the very serious position you are in?"
She appeared to consider.
"Yes," she said slowly, "I haven't anything I care especially to say just now."
Markham leaned over and rested both hands on the desk.
"Do you realize the possible consequences of your attitude?" he asked ominously. "The facts I know regarding your connection with the case, coupled with your refusal to offer a single extenuating
