"Does she--discuss the affair much?" "All the time." "What does she think about the woman in the taxicab?" "You mean the woman who killed him?" "Yes." "Well!" positively. "If I was that woman, I'd hate to meet Hazel Gresham--if Hazel knew it!" "But she has no suspicion of any certain person?" "Goodness, no! How could she have? Of course, we agreed that it was some vampire; but we can't decide which one. Most of the women we know don't go in for killing men; and a heap of them are married, anyway." "Anyway?" "Yes. You wouldn't expect a nice chap like Roland to be eloping with a _married_ woman, would you? Not in real life?" Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. The girl was a refreshing mixture of world-old wisdom and almost childish innocence. She was a type new to him, and, as such, absorbingly interesting. "How about Miss Gresham's brother?" he inquired idly. "How does he take it?" "Oh, Garry seems all upset, too; but then the more I talk to people, the more I think I'm the only level-headed one in the world. I haven't got a bit excited over it, have I?" "Not a bit. And now"--Carroll rose and reached for the check--"suppose we go?" "Where?" she asked naively. The opening was too obvious. "Where do you usually go with young gentlemen who meet you down-town in the afternoons?" "Picture show," she answered frankly. "Wouldn't you just _adore_ to see that picture at the Trianon to-day? They say it's _stupendous_!" "Perhaps." They walked up the street together. On the way they passed Eric Leverage. That gentleman bowed heavily and stood aside in surprise, while an exclamation, rather profane, issued from his lips. David Carroll and a seventeen-year-old girl headed for a picture show! The thing was unbelievable. Leverage shook his head sadly and passed on as Carroll and Evelyn disappeared behind the din of an orchestrion. The picture proved not at all bad, although Evelyn excited adverse comment from spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting within range of her constant chatter. Apparently there was no stopping her. She talked and talked and talked. The picture ended eventually, and they left the theater. Night had descended upon the city, and the busy thoroughfare was studded with thousands of lights, which glared coldly through the December chill. Principally because he did not know what else to do, Carroll requested permission to take her home in his car. She accepted with rather disarming alacrity. Carroll had about run out of conversation, and his ears were tired by the incessant din of the girl's talk. He followed her directions mechanically, and eventually they rounded a corner in the heart of the city's best residential district. Evelyn designated a white house which stood back in a large yard. "That's it," said she. "You'd better turn first, so you can park against the curb."