"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very kind. "We have discovered—of course you’ll understand that our detectives have been busy in all directions—that nearly a month ago you took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you took that room." There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her hands, looked up at him: "I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of mine—Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn’t seen for years. A month ago she wrote me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other girls—that it was respectable and cheap—so I engaged the room. It so happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by illness in her family." I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a movie—Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a soldier waiting for orders. Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney’s voice, rumbling like distant thunder: "But you went to that room yourself?" The Chief’s hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland didn’t seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: "Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I’d had to pay the rent in advance and I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. It was quiet and convenient—I used to write letters and read." "Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" It was the Chief’s voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. Miss Maitland’s attitude didn’t change, but again her hands clasped and stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she was trying to flirt with him, and said: "You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she’d come back at him. "A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still necessary—you have no objection to answering?"