"At what time, on the day Mr. Benson was killed, did the lady call here?"
The woman's gaze did not falter, but the pupils of her eyes dilated.
"There was nobody here."
"Oh, yes, there was, Mrs. Platz." Vance's tone was assured. "What time did she call?"
"Nobody was here, I tell you," she persisted.
Vance lit a cigarette with interminable deliberation, his eyes resting steadily on hers. He smoked placidly until her gaze dropped. Then he stepped nearer to her, and said firmly:
"If you tell the truth no harm will come to you. But if you refuse any information you will find yourself in trouble. The withholding of evidence is a crime, y' know, and the law will show you no mercy."
He made a sly grimace at Markham, who was watching the proceedings with interest.
The woman now began to show signs of agitation. She drew in her elbows, and her breathing quickened.
"In God's name, I swear it!—there wasn't anybody here." A slight hoarseness gave evidence of her emotion.
"Let us not invoke the Deity," suggested Vance carelessly. "What time was the lady here?"
She set her lips stubbornly, and for a whole minute there was silence in the room. Vance smoked quietly, but Markham held his cigar motionless between his thumb and forefinger in an attitude of expectancy.
Again Vance's impassive voice demanded: "What time was she here?"
