"But I would so appreciate my holder. I've missed it horribly."
Markham hesitated. He was manifestly annoyed by the woman's attitude.
"I'll be glad to lend it to you," he compromised; and reaching into another drawer of his desk, he laid the holder on the table before her.
"Now, Miss St. Clair," he said, resuming his gravity of manner, "will you tell me how these personal articles of yours happened to be in Mr. Benson's living-room?"
"No, Mr. Markham, I will not," she answered.
"Do you realize the serious construction your refusal places upon the circumstances?"
"I really hadn't given it much thought." Her tone was indifferent.
"It would be well if you did," Markham advised her. "Your position is not an enviable one; and the presence of your belongings in Mr. Benson's room is, by no means, the only thing that connects you directly with the crime."
The woman raised her eyes inquiringly, and again the enigmatic smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.
"Perhaps you have sufficient evidence to accuse me of the murder?"
Markham ignored this question.
"You were well acquainted with Mr. Benson, I believe?"
"The finding of my hand-bag and gloves in his apartment might lead one to assume as much, mightn't it?" she parried.
