“Any evidence! Evidence against my dear friend! Why, man, if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell it, if it would go against Eunice!” “Oh, yes, you would; the law would force you to. But do you know anything definite?” “No, of course, I don’t! I know that Mr. and Mrs. Embury were not always cooing like turtle-doves! She had the devil’s own temper--and he wasn’t much better! I know he drove her frantic because he wouldn’t give her some privileges she wanted--wouldn’t allow her certain latitudes, and was generally pretty dictatorial. I know Eunice resented this, and I know that lots of times she was pretty nearly at the end of her rope, and she said all sorts of things--that, of course, she didn’t mean--but she wouldn’t kill him! Oh, I don’t think she would do that!” “H’m! So they lived like cats and dogs, did they?” “What an awful way to put it! But, well, Sanford didn’t make Eunice’s life a bed of roses--nor did she go out of her way to please him!” “Mr. Embury was often a guest here?” “He was not! Eunice came here, against his will--against his expressed commands.” “Oho! She did! And her visit here night before last--that was an act of insubordination?” “It was! I wouldn’t tell this--but it’s sure to come out. Yes, he had especially and positively forbidden her to come to that party here, and after he went to his club--Eunice ran away from home and came. Naughty girl! She told us she had played hookey, when she first came in! But, good gracious, Mr. Shane, that was no crime! In this day and generation a wife may disobey her husband--and get away with it!” The arch little face smiled saucily, and Fifi cuddled into her corner, and again fell a-thinking. “I can’t believe you really mean you think Eunice did it!” she broke out. “Why, what are you going to do? Arrest her?” “Not quite. Although she is under strict surveillance at present.” “What! Can’t she go out, if she likes?” “No.” “How perfectly absurd! Oh, I’ve a notion to telephone and ask her to go for a drive. What fun!” Shane looked at the mischievous face in astonishment. He was experienced in human nature, but this shallow, frivolous attitude toward a tragedy was new to him. “I thought you and Mrs. Embury were friends,” he said, reprovingly. “Oh, we are--Or rather, we were. I’m not sure I can know her--after this! But, you see, I can’t take it seriously. I can’t really believe you mean that you think Eunice--guilty! Why, I’d a thousand times rather suspect the old aunt person!” “You would!” Shane spoke eagerly. “Could that be possible?” “It could be possible this way,” Fifi was serious now. “You see, Miss Ames adores Eunice. She found it hard to forgive Sanford for his tyrannical ways--and they were tyrannical. And Miss Ames might have, by way of ridding Eunice from a cruel husband--might have--oh, I can’t say it--it sounds too absurd! But, after all, it’s no more absurd than to suspect Eunice. Why don’t you look for somebody else?” “How could anybody get in?”