“And you are—­are—­exquisite!  Do you know, when I’m with you, I feel inspired to great deeds—­to noble—­er—­attainments.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh!  Honest to goodness.  And did I really help you by what I told you the other day?”

“You certainly did, Miss Rogers.  There isn’t a doubt of it.”

She lowered her voice and leaned confidentially across the table.

“Will you tell me something?”

“Surely?”

“Who really killed Mr. Warren?”

“Eh?”

“Who really did kill him?”

“Why, I’m sure I don’t know.  I’m trying to find out.”

“Oh, pshaw!  You can’t pull the wool over my eyes!  You couldn’t have been working on the case this long and not have discovered the—­the—­malefactor.”

“But that’s exactly what I have done.  Also it’s why I rather hoped that you might have a little more information for me.”

“Me?  Information for you?  How wonderful!  As if you’d be interested in anything I might know!  Although I’m not an absolute fool.  Gerald says I am, of course—­he’s my brother-in-law—­but then Gerald isn’t anything but an old crab, anyway.  Hateful thing!  But you don’t think I am, do you?”

“No, indeed.  Ah, here we are!”

The chocolate fudge sundaes were served, and for a few moments they gave themselves over to the task of enjoying them.  It was Evelyn who spoke first.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Almost anything.  For instance—­you knew Roland Warren pretty well, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!  I’ve known him forever and ever.  He was an awfully nice boy, and crazy about me—­simply wild!  That is, he was before he died.”

“H-m!  And you saw a good deal of him?”

“Oceans!  He used to call at the house all the time.  It was funny, too.  Gerald used to think he was the one Roland was coming to see, and Naomi—­she’s my sister—­used to think that he was coming to see her; and all the time I knew that I was the person he was calling on.  It’s funny, isn’t it, how old folks will get those queer ideas?”

“Your sister is so very old?”

“Terribly.  She was thirty on her last birthday.”

“Horrors!  She is ancient, isn’t she?”

“Awfully!  Although Naomi isn’t so bad looking—­”

“Your sister couldn’t be.”

“Aw, quit kidding!  But she isn’t bad-looking, really.  Lord knows she deserves a better husband than she drew.  Honestly, when the divine providence was handing out shrubbery, they planted a lemon-tree in his yard just before he was born.”

“Probably your sister doesn’t agree with your opinion.”

“Oh, yes, she does!  Of course, she doesn’t talk to me about it, but I know she ain’t wild about Gerald.  How could she be?  He’s old enough to be her father—­forty-two, if he’s a minute.  Don’t think of anything but business and making money.  And he’s terribly jealous!”