Pendleton Broome's swivel chair had come forward with a snap. He looked clownish. He was the only one really surprised by Pen's disclosure. What astonished the others was that she should have admitted it. For a fleeting instant Pen felt sorry for the little man, but she had too much on her mind for the feeling to linger. The detective was not surprised, but he had counted on dragging out the admission, and it annoyed him excessively to have it flung in his face. He affected to be consulting with his subordinates while he recovered himself. "You had better question me," Pen said. "Aunt Maria knows nothing more." "Allow me to be the judge of that," he said sarcastically. Pen shrugged. He went on questioning the negress, but she was reduced to a gibbering state. In the end he had to let her go. Aunt Maria hung in the hall, just around the corner of the door, listening with stretched ears. The reporters straggled back into the room. Pen and the detective faced each other. The man cleared his throat and settled his collar, gave attention to his finger nails, and glanced carelessly out of the window--all time-honored devices to break up the composure of one's opponent. Pen merely looked at him. Suddenly he rasped at her: "So you assisted this murderer to escape?" "Don't speak to me like that," said Pen quietly, with heightened color. "He is not yet proved a murderer." Meanwhile her inner voice was saying despairingly: "You should not antagonize him! You should not antagonize him!" But it was impossible for her to act otherwise towards this great, stupid bully. He smiled disagreeably; nevertheless he modified his tone. "What did you do it for?" he asked. "He had had dinner and supper with us," said Pen. "I differed with my father as to its being our duty to inform against him." "Where did he go from here?" "I don't know." "What! It was a bright moonlight night. Didn't you have interest enough to watch which way he went after having warned him?" "He paddled straight out from the shore. I didn't wait. The motor-boat was coming back." "Why didn't they see your tracks in the sand?" "I walked at the edge of the water." "What did you want to deceive your father for?" "I beg your pardon," said Pen with her chin up. "That is between my father and me." The detective abandoned this line of questioning. "Didn't Counsell tell you where he was going?" he demanded. "No." "Didn't you talk down on the beach?" "Certainly." "What about?" "I had to tell him what was in the newspaper." "Didn't he know already?" "He did not." The detective looked around at his subordinates with a leer, and they all laughed. Instead of disconcerting Pen it had the effect of stiffening her. She looked at one after another so steadily that their eyes suddenly found business elsewhere. The chief said suddenly with the air of one springing a disagreeable surprise: "Had you ever seen Counsell before yesterday?" "Never," said Pen.