Carroll was honest. "No thanks to my sagacity, Leverage. One of those pieces of bull luck which I have always contended play an enormous part in solving crime. In the first place Evelyn Rogers came to me the day after Warren was killed to assure me that Miss Gresham had a perfect alibi. This afternoon she lassoed me and dragged me into an ice cream place because she wanted to prove to some of her school companions that we were really friends." Carroll chuckled. "I quaffed freely from the fountain of youth--and enjoyed it awhile. Then I got bored stiff. Took her to the movies--she invited me--and did it only because I've passed beyond the years of adolescence and didn't know how to crawfish out of it. After which--because it seemed the proper thing to do--I volunteered to ride her home in my car. And it was then that I saw Barker leaving the Lawrence home. So you see, Leverage, my knowledge is the result of pure accident--and not at all the fruit of keen perception." "Well, anyway--Carroll: you knew! And that takes the edge off what I told you." "Not at all," returned Carroll seriously. "For while what I discovered is perhaps valuable--that combined with the fact that Barker has been there once before: and that on his first visit when Lawrence was probably at home he stayed nearly five times as long as he did when we know that Lawrence was not there--that is of help--or ought to be." "What do you think of it?" Carroll hesitated. "I don't know what to think, Eric. I'm afraid I'm thinking about it more than I have any right. We've been so long without anything to work on, that we're liable to let this bit of information throw us off our balance. But of course we'll look more deeply into it." "How?" Again Carroll chuckled. "Our little friend, Miss Rogers, is suffering from a large case of hero-worship. I'm it! And so--when I saw Barker leaving her home--I immediately made an engagement to call upon her to-morrow night!" "_You_ call on that kid--" Suddenly Leverage lay back in his swivel chair and gave vent to a peal of raucous laughter. He banged his fist on the arm of the chair: "Oh! _Boy_! That's the snappiest yet. David Carroll paying a social call on a seventeen-year-old kid! Mama! Ain't that the richest--" Carroll made a wry face. "Needn't rub it in. It's bad enough anyway. And"--growing serious--"I'm hoping to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. They ought to prove interesting." But Leverage could not tear himself away from the sheer humor of the situation: "What the devil you and her going to talk about? Foxtrot steps? Is the camel walk vulgar? Frat dance? Next week's basketball game? Sa-a-ay! David--I'd give my chances of Heaven to be hidden behind the door." "So would I," said Carroll wryly. "Above all things," counseled Leverage with mock severity: "Don't you go making love to her."