“You really mean to make an arrest?”

“If we are forced to—­yes.”

Ashton-Kirk followed him to the door: 

“Extend the time limit,” suggested he.  “Make it the day after to-morrow, and,” elevating his brows, “I don’t think that you’ll need to do anything unpleasant.”

“Ah,” said Osborne, “you’re onto something!” He regarded the other questioningly for a moment, then broke into a grin.  “No use to ask what it is, I suppose?  I thought not.  Well,” reflectively, and in a lowered tone, “it won’t do any harm to oblige you, if the front office is willing.  The party can’t make a move that we won’t know about; and the fact is, I’ve just advised that no going out of any kind be ventured on.  So long, and good luck.”

The door closed behind Osborne, and then Ashton-Kirk followed the soft-footed servant down the hall, up the stairs and into the presence of Edyth Vale.

The girl received him smilingly.

“I’m getting to be a regular occurrence,” said he, as he sat down.

“But a welcome one, nevertheless,” she returned.  “Indeed, if it were not for certain other depressing circumstances, I’d find your visits dreadfully exciting.”

“I suppose Osborne is one of the circumstances referred to.  I just met him in the hall, and he seemed to be quite in a state of mind.  What have you been saying to him?—­or rather,” smiling, “what have you not been saying to him?”

“He came on what he calls ‘police business,’” smiled Miss Vale.  “I considered it quite an alarming expression, and said so; but that made no impression on him, for he proceeded with a string of wonderfully conceived questions that must have covered my life from birth to the present time.”

“The police have about the same method for each case—­a sort of bullying insistence that breaks down denial by sheer weight.”

“I have read of it, frequently, in complaining articles in both magazines and newspapers.  I think I have even seen it very earnestly compared to the Inquisition.”  The smile was still upon the girl’s lip, but as she continued, her voice shook a little.  “However, I never thought to go through even a part of it myself.”

“What the police say may be embarrassing and mortifying,” said Ashton-Kirk gravely, “but it is nothing at all, compared with what they might do.”

Miss Vale drew in her breath in a little gasp of terror; but she made an effort to conceal it with a laugh.

“I know what you mean,” she said, lightly.  “You think that they might go so far as to take me into custody as an accessory to the crime, or even as the actual criminal.”

“Mr. Osborne told me that such was their intention, if you do not explain clearly your connection with the case.  I don’t think that the Department is at all anxious to draw you into the matter; but some of the newspapers, as you no doubt have noted, have grown very insistent.  They say that a poor musician is jailed instantly, while the woman of fashion, who is perhaps equally guilty, is allowed to go free.  Such ways of putting things have a great effect upon public opinion; the politicians who conduct the municipal departments know this, and always move to protect themselves, no matter in what direction the movement takes them.”