Something in his tone and manner seemed to inspire her confidence.
"What do you wish to ask me?" she asked.
Vance cast another reproachful glance at Markham, who was restraining his outraged feelings only with difficulty; and then turned back to the woman.
"First of all, will you explain how your gloves and hand-bag found their way into Mr. Benson's house? Their presence there has been preying most distressin'ly on the District Attorney's mind."
She turned a direct, frank gaze upon Markham.
"I dined with Mr. Benson at his invitation. Things between us were not pleasant, and when we started for home, my resentment of his attitude increased. At Times Square I ordered the chauffeur to stop—I preferred returning home alone. In my anger and my haste to get away, I must have dropped my gloves and bag. It was not until Mr. Benson had driven off that I realized my loss, and having no money, I walked home. Since my things were found in Mr. Benson's house, he must have taken them there himself."
"Such was my own belief," said Vance. "And—my word!—it's a deucedly long walk out here, what?"
He turned to Markham with a tantalizing smile.
"Really, y' know, Miss St. Clair couldn't have been expected to reach here before one."
Markham, grim and resolute, made no reply.
"And now," pursued Vance, "I should love to know under what circumst'nces the invitation to dinner was extended."
