"That, too, is my business, Carroll. Do you think I'm going to feed pap to you?"

Carroll reflected carefully for a moment. Then suddenly his voice crackled across the room--"You know, of course, that you are suspected of Warren's murder?"

Silence! Then a forced, sickly grin creased Lawrence's lips--but his figure slumped, almost cringed. From Naomi came a choked gasp--

"Mr. Carroll! Not Gerald--"

Carroll paid no heed to the woman. He sat back in his chair, eyes never for one moment leaving Lawrence's pallid face. Nor did Carroll speak again--he waited. It was Lawrence who broke the silence--

"Is--this--what you--detectives--call the third degree?"

"It is not. Now get this straight, Lawrence--I came here to find out what you know about Warren and the circ.u.mstances surrounding his death. I wanted to be decent about the thing--to cause you no embarra.s.sment if I was convinced that you were unconnected with the crime. You have forced my hand. You have driven me to methods which I abhor--"

"You haven't a thing on me," said Lawrence and his tone had degenerated into a half whine. "You can't scare me a little bit. I've got an alibi--"

"Certainly you have. So, too, have a good many men who have eventually been proven guilty."

Lawrence rose nervously and paced the room. "You asked me a little while ago if I was in this city at the hour when the crime was committed. I answered that it was for me to know and you to find out. I'll answer direct now--just to stop this absurd suspicion which has been directed against me: I was _not_ in the city at that hour--or within six hours of midnight. I was in Nashville."

"At what hotel?"

"At the--" Lawrence paused. "Matter of fact, I wasn't at any hotel."

"You had registered at the Hermitage, hadn't you?"

"Yes, but--"

"When did you check out?" Carroll's voice was snapping out with staccato insistence.

"About four o'clock in the afternoon."

"Where did you go? Where did you spend the night?"

Lawrence shook his head helplessly. "I'll be honest, Carroll--I took several drinks--"

"Alone?"

"Yes. And at two o'clock in the morning when my train left I was at the station. I don't know what I did in the meantime--I don't remember anything much about anything."

"In other words," said Carroll coldly, "You have no alibi except your own word. On the other hand we know that you checked out of the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville at four o'clock. You could have caught the 4:25 train and reached this city at ten minutes after eleven o'clock. You have not the slightest proof that you didn't."

"I--I came down on the train which left there a little after two in the morning."

"Prove it."

There was a hunted look about Lawrence. "I can't prove it--a man can't prove that he came on a certain train--"

"Was there n.o.body on board who knew you?"

"I--don't know. I was feeling badly when I got in--the berths were all made up--I went right to sleep and when the porter woke me we were in the yards. I dressed and came right home."

"And yet--" Carroll was merciless "--you have no substantiation for your statements." He switched his line of attack suddenly: "What made you think I was coming here to discuss Roland Warren's death?"

It was plain that Lawrence did not want to answer--yet there was something in Carroll's mesmeric eyes which wrung words unwillingly from his lips--

"Just logic," he answered weakly. "I knew that you weren't calling to see Evelyn because you were interested in her. You knew Warren had been pretty friendly in this house--so you came to talk to us about it. Isn't that reasonable?"

"I don't believe I am here to answer questions, Mr. Lawrence. You invited me to ask them."

Naomi broke in, her voice choked with hysteria--"What are you leading to, Mr. Carroll? It is absurd to think that Gerald had anything to do with Mr. Warren's death."

Carroll swung on her, biting off his words shortly: "Do you _know_ that he didn't?"

"Yes--I--"

"I didn't ask what you _thought_, Mrs. Lawrence. I am asking what you _know_!"

"But if he was in Nashville--"

"If he was, then he's safe. But he himself cannot prove that he was. And I tell you frankly that the police will investigate his movements very carefully. It strikes me as exceedingly peculiar that he checked out from the Hermitage Hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended taking a two a.m. train. Remember, I am accusing your husband of nothing.

Our conversation could have been pleasant--he refused to allow it to be so. He cla.s.sified me as a professional detective and put me on that basis in his home. I have merely accepted his invitation to act as one. If I appear discourteous, kindly recall that it was none of my doing."

"I'm sorry, Carroll," said Lawrence pleadingly. "I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't know how much I knew--or might guess. You saw fit to insult me--"

"I've apologized."

"Your apologies come a trifle late, Lawrence. Entirely too late. Our relations from now on are those of detective and suspect--"

Again the flare of hate in Lawrence's manner: "I don't have to prove an alibi, Carroll. You have to prove my connection with the thing. And you can't do it!"

"Why not?"

"Because I was in Nashville at that time. And while perhaps I can't prove I was there--you certainly cannot prove I was not."

"That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I'd advise you to establish that fact if you can possibly do so. And by the way: are you in the habit of indulging in these solitary debauches in neighboring cities?"

Lawrence flushed. "Sometimes. I used to be a heavy drinker, and--"

"Is that a fact, Mrs. Lawrence?"

"Yes," she answered eagerly: almost too eagerly Carroll thought--"he has had escapades like this--several times."

"And you are sure that his story is true?"

"Yes. Of course I'm sure. Why should he kill Mr. Warren? There isn't any reason in the world--"

"For your sake and his, I hope not. But meanwhile--"