“Paris.”  “France.”

“Quartier Latin.”  “Students.”

“Apaches.”  Craig gave it its Gallicised pronunciation, “Apash.”  “Really, Dr. Kennedy,” she said, “there is nothing I can associate with them—­well, yes, les vaches, I believe.  You had better count that question out.  I’ve wasted a good many seconds.”

“Very well, let us try again,” he replied with a forced unconcern, though the answer seemed to interest him, for “les vaches” meant “the cows,” otherwise known as the police.

No lawyer could have revelled in an opportunity for putting leading questions more ruthlessly than did Kennedy.  He snapped out his words sharply and unexpectedly.

“Chandelier.”  “Light.”

“Electric light,” he emphasised.  “Broadway,” she answered, endeavouring to force a new association of ideas to replace one which she strove to conceal.

“Safe.”  “Vaults.”  Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the indicator showed a tremendously increased heart action.  As for the reaction time, I noted that it was growing longer and more significant.  Remorselessly he pressed his words home.  Mentally I cursed him.

“Rubber.”  “Tire.”

“Steel.”  “Pittsburg,” she cried at random.

“Strong-box,” No answer.

“Lock.”  Again no answer.  He hurried his words.  I was leaning forward, tense with excitement and sympathy.

“Key.”  Silence and a fluttering of the blood pressure indicator.

“Will.”

As the last word was uttered her air of frightened defiance was swept away.  With a cry of anguish, she swayed to her feet.  “No, no, doctor, you must not, you must not,” she cried with outstretched arms.  “Why do you pick out those words of all others?  Can it be—­” If I had not caught her I believe she would have fainted.

The indicator showed a heart alternately throbbing with feverish excitement and almost stopping with fear.  What would Kennedy do next, I wondered, determined to shut him off as soon as I possibly could.  From the moment I had seen her I had been under her spell.  Mine should have been Fletcher’s place, I knew, though I cannot but say that I felt a certain grim pleasure in supporting even momentarily such a woman in her time of need.

“Can it be that you have guessed what no one in the world, no, not even dear old Jack, dreams Oh, I shall go mad, mad, mad!”

Kennedy was on his feet in an instant, advancing toward her.  The look in his eyes was answer enough for her.  She knew that he knew, and she paled and shuddered, shrinking away from him.

“Miss Bond,” he said in a voice that forced attention—­it was low and vibrating with feeling—­“Miss Bond, have you ever told a lie to shield a friend?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

“So can I,” came back the same tense voice, “when I know the truth about that friend.”