John Quincy was deeply annoyed. What was this mix-up he had let himself in for, anyhow? He had a notion to rise, and with a cold bow, leave the room. Something told him, however, that he couldn't get away Avith it.
Very much on his dignity, he repeated the woman's story to him. Winterslip had come to her cottage the night before to make a final appeal for the brooch. On his promise to replace it with something else, she had given it up. He had taken it and left her at nine-thirty.
"That was the last she saw of him," finished John Quincy.
Hallet smiled grimly. "So she told you, at any rate. But she admits she was lying. If you'd had the sense to leave this sort of thing to the proper people — " He wheeled on the woman. "You were lying, weren't you ?"
She nodded nonchalantly. "In a way. Dan did leave my cottage at nine-thirty — or a little later. But I went with him — to his house. Oh, it was perfectly proper. Steve went along."
"Oh, yes — Steve." Hallet glanced at Mr. Leatherbee, who did not appear quite the ideal chaperon. "Now, young woman, go back to the beginning. Nothing but the truth."
"So help me," said Mrs. Compton. She attempted a devastating smile. "I wouldn't lie to you, Captain — you know I wouldn't. I realize you're a big man out here, and—" *
"Give me your story," cut in Hallet coldly.
"Sure. Dan dropped into my place for a chat last night about nine, and he found Mr. Leatherbee there. He was jealous as sin, Dan was — honest to God, I don't ioiow why. Me and Steve are just pals — eh, Steve?"
