“That may or may not be,” said Miss Macroy ironically. “The point is, what are you going to do for ‘Flush’? You know all these swells, and you’re working for that swine Yale,” she almost hissed. “It was Yale who put Parr up to the Marisburg Place job; Parr hadn’t got brains enough to think it out for himself. Were you working with Yale all the time?” “Don’t make me laugh,” said Thalia scornfully. “It’s certainly true I am working for Yale, if writing his letters and tidying his desk is work. But what swells are you talking about? And what can I do for ‘Flush’ Barnet?” “You can go to Inspector Parr and tell him the old, old story,” said Macroy. “I’ve got it all worked out; you can say that ‘Flush’ was sweet on you, saw you go into the house and followed, and couldn’t get out.” “What about my young reputation?” asked the girl coolly. “No, Milly Macroy, you’ve got to think up something prettier and, anyway, I don’t think they’re making a charge for murder against him, from what Derrick Yale said this morning.” She rose and walked slowly across the room, her hands clasped behind her. “Besides, what interest have I in your young man? Why should I take the trouble of speaking for him?” “I’ll tell you why.” Miss Macroy rose, her hands on her hips, and glared at the girl. “Because when the Brabazon case comes on, there’s nothing to prevent me going into the box and saying a few plain words about what you did in the way of quick money-getting when you were Brab’s secretary. Ah! That’s made you jump, miss!” “When the Brabazon case comes on!” said the girl slowly. “Why? Have they caught Brabazon?” “They pinched him to-night,” answered the girl triumphantly. “Parr did it: I was up at the police station making inquiries about some money that ‘Flush’ left over for me, when they brought him in.” “Brabazon a prisoner,” said Thalia slowly. “Poor old Brab!” Macroy was watching her through her half-closed lids. She had never liked Thalia Drummond, and now she hated her. She feared her too, for there was something sinister in her very coolness. Presently Thalia spoke. “I’ll do what I can for ‘Flush’ Barnet,” she said. “Not because I’m scared of your going into the box--that’s the part of the police court where you’ll be least at home, Macroy--but because the poor little wretch was innocent of the murder.” Miss Macroy swallowed something at this description of her lover. “I’ll talk to Yale in the morning. I can’t be sure it will do any good, but I’ll get a heart-to-heart talk with him if he gives me a chance.” “Thank you,” said Miss Macroy, a little more graciously, and proceeded to admire the flat in conventional language. Thalia showed her from room to room. “What’s this place?” “The kitchen,” said Thalia, but made no attempt to open the door. The girl looked at her suspiciously. “Have you got a friend?” she asked, and before Thalia could stop her she had opened the door and walked in.