“I believe you, old man; and so I’m sure you will agree with me that we must follow up the inquiry as to Miss Lloyd’s presence in the office that night.  She must be made to talk, and perhaps it would be best to tell Goodrich all about it, and let him push the matter.”

“Oh, no,” I cried involuntarily.  “Don’t set him on the track of the poor girl.  That is, Parmalee, let me talk to her again, first.  Now that I know she was down there that night, I think I can question her in a little different manner, and persuade her to own the truth.  And, Parmalee, perhaps she was down there because Hall was there.”

“Hall!  He was in New York.”

“So he says, but why should he speak the truth any more than Miss Lloyd?”

“You, mean they may both be implicated?”

“Yes; or he may have used her as a tool.”

“Not Florence Lloyd.  She’s nobody’s tool.”

“Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves.  But,” I went on, with an air of conviction which was not entirely genuine, “Miss Lloyd doesn’t love Mr. Hall.”

“I don’t know about that,” returned Parmalee; “you can’t tell about a woman like Florence Lloyd.  If she doesn’t love him, she’s at least putting up a bluff of doing so.”

“I believe it is a bluff, though I’m sure I don’t know why she should do that.”

“On the other hand, why shouldn’t she?  For some reason she’s dead set on marrying him, ready to give up her fortune to do so, if necessary.  He must have some sort of a pretty strong hold on her.”

“I admit all that, and yet I can’t believe she loves him.  He’s such a commonplace man.”

“Commonplace doesn’t quite describe him.  And yet Gregory Hall, with all the money in the world, could never make himself distinguished or worth while in any way.”

“No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, to make her so determined to marry him?”

“I don’t think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort of hold over her,—­a promise or something,—­that she can’t escape.”

My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall, but I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I was determined to go on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her.

“You see,” Parmalee went on, “you suspect Hall, only because you’re prejudiced against him.”

“Good gracious!” I exclaimed; “that’s an awful thing to say, Parmalee.  The idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn’t admire his personality!  And besides, it isn’t true.  If I suspect Hall, it’s because I think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, and more than all, because he refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night.”

“But that’s just the point, Burroughs.  A man who’ll commit murder would fix up his alibi first of all.  He would know that his refusal to tell his whereabouts would be extremely suspicious.  No, to my mind it’s Hall’s refusal to tell that stamps him as innocent.”