"That she knows something. She's over on the _News_ now, understudying the fashion editor before taking charge, and we lunch together nearly every day. She's so changed from what she was a year ago, when she was the life of the crowd--so naive in her eagerness to become a real metropolitan, and yet so quick and keen she had us all on our mettle. Great girl, Alys! At first, when I met her here again, I attributed the change to the same old reason--a man. I still believe she has had some heart-racking experience, but there's something else--I didn't notice it so much that first day--but since--well, she's carrying a mental burden of some sort. Alys has a damask cheek, as you may have noticed, but nowadays there's a worm in the bud. And those olive eyes of hers have a way of leaving you suddenly and travelling a thousand miles with an expression that isn't just blank. They will look as grimly determined as if she were about to turn her conscience loose, and in a moment this will relax into an expression of curious irresolution--for her: Alys always knows pretty well what she wants. So, as this mystery must be in her consciousness pretty well all the time, when she is at home, at least, I feel sure she knows something but is of two minds about telling it to the police." "Have you any object in telling me this? I thought you modern women who have deserted the mere home for the working world of men prided yourselves upon a new code of loyalty to one another." "That's a nasty one! I'm not disloyal to Alys. Others have noticed that there's something big and grim on her mind, as well as I. Jim Broderick is always after her to open up. I have a very distinct reason for telling you. In fact, I have tried to get a word with you for some time." "Have you been following me? Were--were--you in Brooklyn yesterday?" "Yes, to both questions." Her voice shook, but her eyes challenged him imperiously; they were under the bright lights of Main Street. "I'll tell you what I believe Alys knows: that you killed David Balfame; and she can't make up her mind to betray you even to liberate an innocent woman." He was taken unawares, but she could detect no relaxation in his strong face; on the contrary, it set more grimly. "And what are you up to?" he asked. "To find the proof for myself, and get ahead of Jim Broderick." "I know of no one so convinced of Mrs. Balfame's guilt as Broderick." "That's all right, but a man with as keen a scent as that is likely to find the real trail any minute." "And you believe I did it?" "I think there are reasons for believing it." "I won't ask you for them. It doesn't matter, particularly. What interests me is to know whether you believe that if I had committed the crime of murder I would let a woman suffer in my stead." Miss Austin cerebrated.