If he
could prove that he'd been in the house no more than half an hour, it
might be all right, for two doctors agree that the murdered man had been
dead more than an hour when they were called in. But he can't or won't
prove it--that's his luck again!--and nobody can be found who saw him in
any of the streets through which he mentions passing. The last moment
that he can be accounted for is when a cabman, who'd taken him up at the
hotel just after he left us, set him down in the Rue de Courbvoie, not
so very far from the Elysee Palace. Then it was only between five and
ten minutes past twelve, so he could easily have gone on to the Rue de
la Fille Sauvage afterwards and killed his man at the time when the
doctors say the fellow must have died. It's a bad scrape. But of course
Dundas will get out of it somehow or other, in the end."
"Do _you_ think he will, Eric?" asked Aunt Lil.
"I hope so with all my heart," he answered. But his face showed that he
was deeply troubled, and my heart sank down--down.
As I realised more and more the danger in which Ivor stood, my
resentment against him began to seem curiously trivial. Nothing had
happened to make me feel that I had done him an injustice in thinking he
cared more for Maxine de Renzie than for me--indeed, on the contrary,
everything went to prove his supreme loyalty to her whose name he had
refused to speak, even for the sake of clearing himself.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248