Fifi was enjoying herself. She felt almost sure the boy was a reporter of a new sort, but she was frankly curious. “Well, ma’am,” and here Fibsy changed his demeanor to a stern, scowling fierceness, “I’m a special investigator.” He rose now, and strode about the room. “I’m engaged on the Embury murder case, and I’m here to ask you a few pointed questions about it.” “My heavens!” cried Fifi, “what are you talking about?” “Don’t scoff at me, ma’am; I’m in authority.” “Oh, well, go ahead. Why are you questioning me?” “It’s this way, ma’am.” Fibsy sat down astride a chair, looking over the back of it at his hostess. “You and Mrs. Embury are bosom friends, I understand.” “From whom do you understand it?” was the tart response; “from Mrs. Embury?” “In a manner o’ speakin’, yes; and then again, no. But aren’t you?” “We were. We were school friends, and have been intimates for years. But since her--trouble, Mrs. Embury has thrown me over--has discarded me utterly--I’m so sorry!” Fifi daintily touched her eyes with a tiny square of monogrammed linen, and Fibsy said, gravely, “Careful, there; don’t dab your eyelashes too hard!” “What!” Mrs. Desternay could scarcely believe her ears. “Honest, you’d better look out. It’s coming off now.” “Nothing of the sort,” and Fifi whipped out a vanity case, and readjusted her cosmetic adornment. “Then I take it you two are not friends?” “We most certainly are not. I wouldn’t do anything in the world to injure Eunice Embury--in fact, I’d help her, even now--though she scorned my assistance--but we’re not friends--no!” “All right, I just wanted to know. Ask right out--that’s my motto.” “It seems to be! Anything else you are thirsting to learn?” “Yes’m. You know that ‘Hamlet’ performance--you and Mis’ Embury went to?” “Yes,” said Fifi, cautiously. “You know you accused her of talkin’ it over with you--” “She did!” “Yes’m--I know you say she did--I got that from Mr. Shane--but, lemme tell you, ma’am, friendly like, you want to be careful how you tell that yarn--’cause they’s chance fer a perfectly good slander case against you!” “What nonsense!” but Fifi paled a little under her delicate rouge. “No nonsense whatsomever. But here’s the point. Was there a witness to that conversation?” “Why, let me see. We talked it over at the matinee--we were alone then--but, yes, of course--I recollect now--that same evening Eunice was here and Mr. Hendricks was, too, and Mr. Patterson--he lives in their apartment house--the Embury’s, I mean-and we all talked about it! There! I guess that’s witnesses enough!” “I guess it is. But take it from me, lady, you’re too pretty to get into a bothersome lawsuit--and I advise you to keep on the sunny side of the street, and let these shady matters alone.” “I’ll gladly do so--honest, I don’t want to get Eunice in bad--”