But Mrs. Balfame, like all artificial people, was intensely secretive, and only delivered herself of the unvarnished truth when it served her purpose best. She gave a little feminine shudder. "I never kept a pistol in the house. If I had, it would have been empty--just something to flourish at a burglar." "Ah--yes. I was going to say that I was glad of that, but I don't know that it matters. If you had taken a revolver out that night, loaded or otherwise, and confessed to it, you hardly could have escaped arrest by this time, even if it were a .38. And if you confessed to going out into the dark to stalk a man without one--that would make your adventure look foolhardy and purposeless--" It was evident that he was thinking aloud. She interrupted him sharply: "But you believe me?" "I believe every word you say. The more differently you act from other women, the more natural you seem to me. But I think you were dead right in suppressing the episode. It leads nowhere and would incriminate you." "It may come out yet. That is why I sent for you, not because I was afraid of those reporters. Frieda was on the backstairs that night when I came in. I thought I heard a sound and called out. I told Anna that night and she questioned Frieda indirectly and was satisfied that she had heard nothing, for although she had come home early with a toothache, she was suffering so intensely that she wouldn't have heard if the shot had been fired under her window. So I dismissed such misgivings as I had from my mind. But just after those reporters left she came up to my room and told me that she saw me come in, and tried to blackmail me for five hundred dollars. I soon made her admit that she had not seen me; but she heard me, no doubt of that. I explained logically why I was there--after a drink of water, and that I called out to her because I thought I heard some one try the door--but if those reporters get hold of her--" His face looked very grim. "That is bad, bad. By the way, why didn't you run to Balfame? That would seem the natural thing--" "I was suddenly horribly afraid. I think I knew he was dead and I didn't want to go near _that_. I ran like a dog back to its kennel." "It was a feminine enough thing to do." For the first time he smiled, and his voice, which had insensibly grown inquisitorial, softened once more. "It was a dreadful position to find oneself in and no mistake. Your instinct was right. If you had been found bending over him--still, as you had no weapon--" "I think on the whole it would have been better to have gone to him. Of course that is what I should have done if I had loved him. As it was, I ran as far from him as I could get--"