They pulled up at the curb of the Gresham home. As they did so Garry Gresham swung out of the gate, paused--and his eyes widened in astonishment at sight of Carroll. Then he stepped quickly to the curb as Carroll and the girl alighted.

"h.e.l.lo, Garry," greeted Evelyn boldly. It was the first time she had ever called him by his first name. But Gresham did not notice. He nodded a curt "h.e.l.lo, Evelyn" and addressed himself to Carroll--eyes level, manner direct.

"What do you want here, Carroll?"

There was an undertone of earnestness in the young man's words which the detective did not miss. He simulated innocence: "I? Nothing--"

Garry Gresham frowned. "You had no particular reason for coming here?"

"None whatever. Why?"

"I fancied it was peculiar--after your original suspicion of my sister--"

Carroll laughed good-naturedly. "Rid your mind of that, my friend. I merely happened to be downtown with Miss Rogers--and drove her up here in my car. As a matter of fact, if you have no objection, I'd like very much to meet your sister."

"Why?"

"Because she was Roland Warren's fiancee. Because she can tell me some things about Warren which no one else can tell me. Because the Warren case is almost as far from solution as it was one minute after the killing occurred."

Gresham thought intensively for a moment. "You can give me your word of honor, Carroll, that you are convinced that my sister is not connected in any way with the crime?"

"I can, Gresham. So far as I now know, your sister has no connection whatever with the case. But she must necessarily be in possession of certain personal details regarding Warren which I'd like to find out."

Gresham started back toward the house. "You may talk to her," he decided briefly--"if she is willing. But I prefer to be present during the interview."

Carroll bowed. "As you will, Gresham."

They walked to the house and Garry led the way to the front hall. Evelyn, considerably piqued at being ignored, took advantage of his disappearance in search of his sister, to open up a broadside of inconsequential chatter before which her previous efforts paled into insignificance. And it was in the midst of her verbal barrage that Gresham appeared at the far end of the hall with his sister.

Carroll was pleasantly surprised. Evelyn's protestations of intimacy with Hazel Gresham had implanted in his mind the impression that she was decidedly of the flapper type. He was glad to find that she was not.

She was not a beautiful girl: rather she belonged in that very desirable category which is labeled "Sweet." There was an attractive wistfulness about her--an undeniable charm, a wholesomeness--the sort of a woman, reflected Carroll instantly, whom a sensible man marries.

There was no hint of affectation about her. Her eyes were a trifle red and swollen and she seemed in the grip of something more than mere excitement. But in her dress there was no ostentation--it was somber, but not black. And she came straight to Carroll--her eyes meeting his squarely--and they mutually acknowledged Evelyn's gushing, but unheard, introduction--

"Miss Gresham--"

"Mr. Carroll--"

They seated themselves about a small table which stood in the center of the reception hall, and even Evelyn sensed the undercurrent of tenseness in the air. Her tongue became reluctantly still although she did break in once with a triumphant--"Ain't he like I told you he was?" to Hazel.

It was Garry who introduced the subject. "Mr. Carroll wants to ask you something about Roland," he said softly--and Carroll, intercepting the look which pa.s.sed between brother and sister, felt a sense of warmth--a pleasant glow; albeit it was tinged with guilt--as though he had blundered in on something sacred.

The girl's voice came softly in reply: her gaze unwavering.

"What is it you wish to know, Mr. Carroll?"

The detective was momentarily at a loss. He conscripted his entire store of tact--"I don't want to cause you any embarra.s.sment, Miss Gresham--"

"This is no time for equivocation, Mr. Carroll. You may ask me whatever you wish."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully. "You have, of course, heard that there is a woman connected with Mr. Warren's death--the woman in the taxicab."

Her face grew pallid, but she nodded. "Yes. Of course."

He watched her closely--"Have you the slightest idea--the vaguest suspicion--of that woman's ident.i.ty?"

"No!" she answered--and he knew that she had spoken the truth.

"You have thought of it--of her--a good deal?"

"Naturally."

"Mind you--I'm not asking if you _know_--I'm merely asking if you have a suspicion."

"I have not--not the faintest."

"You were quite satisfied--pardon the intense personal trend of my questions, Miss Gresham--that during his engagement to you, Mr. Warren was--well, that he was carrying on no affair with another woman?"

"I say, Carroll--" It was Garry Gresham who interrupted and his voice was harsh. But his sister halted him with a little affectionate gesture--

"Mr. Carroll is right, Garry: he must know these things." She turned again to Carroll. "No, Mr. Carroll--I knew of no such affair--nor did I suspect one. When I became engaged to Mr. Warren I placed my trust in him as a gentleman. I still believe in him."

"Yet we _know_ that there _was_ a woman in that cab!"

"No-o. We know that the taxi-driver _says_ there was."

"That's true--"

Hazel Gresham leaned forward: her manner that of a suppliant. "Mr.

Carroll--why don't you abandon this horrible investigation? Why aren't you content to let matters rest where they are?"

"I couldn't do that, Miss Gresham."

"Why not?"

"Mr. Warren's murderer is still at large--and as a matter of duty--"

"Duty to whom? I am content to let the matter rest where it is. All of your investigation isn't going to restore Roland to life. You can only cause more misery, more suffering, more heartbreak--"

"It is a duty to the State, Miss Gresham. And, frankly, I cannot understand your att.i.tude--"

"She has had enough--" broke in Garry Gresham. "She's been through h.e.l.l since--that night."

"I'm afraid, though--"

"Mr. Carroll--you _can_ call it off, if you will." Hazel Gresham rose and paced the room. "The case is in your hands. You can gain nothing by finding the person who committed the--the--deed. Let's drop it. Do me that favor, won't you? Let's consider the whole thing at an end!"

David Carroll was puzzled. But he was honest--"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss Gresham. I must, at least, try to solve it."