“I—­I lost it, sir.”

“No, you didn’t lose it.  You wore it home again, and when you retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own room.”

“No, sir.  You make mistake.  I look for him next day in my room, but cannot find him.”

I almost laughed at the man’s ingenuousness.  He contradicted his own story so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpleton than a villain.

“Of course you couldn’t find it,” I informed him, “for it was taken from your room next day; and of course you didn’t look for it until after you had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest.”

Louis’s easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at Elsa, as he said:  “Who take him away? who take my rose from my room.”

“But you denied having a rose, Louis.  Now you’re asking who took it away.  Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth.  You’re not at all successful in telling falsehoods.  Now answer me this:  When you came home Tuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past the office window?”

“No, sir.  I walked around the other side.  I—­”

“Stop, Louis!  You’re not telling the truth.  You did walk around by the office, and you dropped your transfer there.  It never blew all around the house, as you have said it did.”

A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man’s eyes, but he did not look at me.  He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a singsong way, “go round the other side of the house.”

It was a sort of deadlock.  Without a witness to the fact, I could not prove that he had gone by the office windows, though I was sure he had.

But help came from an unexpected quarter.

Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but now she spoke up suddenly, and said:  “He did go round by the office, Mr. Burroughs, and I saw him.”

I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effect of her speech on him was quite the reverse.  He almost collapsed; he trembled and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made no sound.  Surely this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn the secret of his knowledge.

“Tell me about it, Elsa,” I said, quietly.

“I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and I saw Louis come around the house, and he came around by the office side.”

“You’re positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it?  Remember, you are making an important assertion.”

“I am telling the truth, sir.  I saw him plainly as he came around and entered at the back door.”

“You hear, Louis?” I said sternly.  “I believe Elsa’s statement rather than yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are rattled and agitated, and have all the appearance of concealing something.”

Louis looked helpless.  He didn’t dare deny Elsa’s story, but he would not confirm it.  At last he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, “Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for me.”