“Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?”

“I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master.”

That wouldn’t do, then.  As long as I asked him direct questions he could answer falsely.  I must trip him up in some roundabout way.

“Yes,” I said pleasantly, “I understand that.  And what was Mr. Crawford doing?”

“He sat at his desk;” and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his words with care.

“Was he writing?”

“No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing.”

I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before the man could frame up his lie.  I believed I was going to learn something at last, if I could make the man tell.  Surely the testimony of one who saw Joseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimony was difficult to obtain, it was well worth the effort.

“And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?”

Louis stared at me.  “Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night.”  This was said so simply and unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely certain it was not Hall whom Louis had seen there.

“Oh, yes, of course, so he was,” I said lightly; “and Mr. Crawford was writing, was he?”

“Yes, sir,” spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to learn always accompanied Louis’s untruthful statements.

And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it over with.  It must be done, and I felt sure I could do it, but oh, how I dreaded it!

“Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?”

“No, sir.”

“And didn’t Miss Florence see you, either?”

“No, sir.”

It was out.  The mere fact that Louis answered that question so calmly and unconsciously proved he was telling the truth.  But what a truth! for it told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd was in the office with her uncle, that Louis had seen her, but that she had not seen him.  I had learned the truth from my reading of the man’s expression and demeanor, and though it made my heart sink, I didn’t for a moment doubt that it was the truth.

Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and again he began his stammering denials.  “Of course, Miss Lloyd do not see me for she is not there.  How can she see me, then?  I tell you my master was alone!”

Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that I was right.  For Louis’s voice rose almost to a shriek, so angry was he with himself for having made the slip.

“Give it up, Louis,” I said; “you have let out the truth, now be quiet.  You couldn’t help it, man, you were bound to trip yourself up sooner or later.  You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, and now that I understand why you told your falsehoods, I can’t help admiring your chivalry.  You saw Miss Lloyd there that evening, you heard her next day at the inquest deny having been in the office in the evening.  So, in a way, it was very commendable