“No,” and Zizi smiled at such ignorance of crime slang. “No, that means she isn’t honest or, rather, honorable. She makes up yarns to suit herself, and often to suit some one else who pays well for being suited. Now, we’ll get her in here and quiz her, and you say little or nothing at first, until we see what’s doing.” Molly was summoned and Zizi began in a straightforward way: “Molly, you saw some one in the halls the night of the Binney murder. You’ve said it was Miss Everett. Here’s Miss Everett, do you still say so?” “Lord, no, Miss. I’ve found out who it was, and it was a man.” “You said a woman.” “I know I did, but I—I made a mistake. It was sorta dark, you know.” “And you take back the statement that you saw a woman?” “I do, miss.” “Who paid you to do that?” “Nobody, miss.” Molly’s round, blue eyes seemed truthful, but Zizi was not sure. “Well, now that you’ve decided you saw a man, who was the man?” “That I don’t know—for sure.” “Who do you think it was,—or, might have been?” “I’m not saying,—for why should I make trouble for an innercent human bein’?” “You’re stalling until you see whether we’ll pay you more for your information or he’ll pay you more to suppress it! Now, you’re foolish to act like that, for nine chances out of ten it was an innocent man, anyway.” “Oh, no, miss; oh, no!” “What do you mean by that?” “The man was up to no good. He was searching in Sir Binney’s room.” “Oh, he was. Then tell us his name, or the Law will make you do so.” “You ain’t the Law, miss. I’ll be goin’ now, and when the Law has anythin’ to say to me, lemmeno.” “But wait a moment,” said Dorcas; “just tell me this. Did the man get what he wanted from Sir Herbert’s room?” “Yes,—I mean, I don’t know. How should I know?” Angry at the slip she had carelessly made, Molly ran away and was down the hall and around a corner before the girls realized she had gone. “I know what they’re after,” said Dorcas. “Suppose I tell you,—and perhaps we can do something to help along.” CHAPTER XVII A Woman Scorned “Whoever was searching in Sir Herbert’s room,” Dorcas began, “was after that recipe for the Binney Buns.” “What’s that?” asked Zizi, to draw the girl on. “Why, there’s a special recipe for the buns, of course, and it’s very valuable,—the buns can’t be made without it,—and I can’t help thinking that Mr Crippen or some messenger of his has been hunting around there for that recipe.” “Why not a messenger from some other of the bakeries interested? The Popular Popovers, or whatever it’s called,—or Mr Vail’s company?” “Maybe. But I know that Mr Vail and Sir Herbert decided not to make a deal, and I think that Popular company also decided not to. Well, anyway, I’m sure whoever was prowling in the Binney apartment was in search of that recipe, which was hidden there.” “Well, but what good does it do to surmise that? Or even to know that?”