“A man brought a girl here to lunch,” she said; “they’ve been here before. The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her. Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here to-day meaning to make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the room at the far end of the hall. George, the water, heard the two shots and ran down here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms are fixed to keep out noise, and the piano was going. We broke in and found them on the floor. The man was shot through the shoulder, the girl through the body. His story is that after she fired, in trying to get the gun from her, she shot herself-by accident. That’s right, I guess. But the girl says they came here to die together--what the newspaper call a ‘suicide pact’--because they couldn’t marry, and that he first shot her, intending to kill her and then himself. That’s silly. She framed it to get him. She missed him with the gun, so now she’s trying to get him with this murder charge. I know her. If she’d been sober she wouldn’t have shot him; she’d have blackmailed him. She’s that sort. I know her, and----” With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. “And the man,” he demanded eagerly; “was it HE killed Banf?” In amazement the woman stared. “Certainly NOT!” she said. “Then what HAS this to do with Banf?” “Nothing!” Her tone was annoyed, reproachful. “That was only to bring you here.” His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself in anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke Wharton forced himself to pause. Then he repeated her words quietly. “Bring me here?” he asked. “Why?” The woman exclaimed impatiently: “So you could beat the police to it,” she whispered. “So you could HUSH IT UP!” The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no resentment or pose. He was genuinely amused. Then the dignity of his office, tricked and insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared at her coldly; his indignation was apparent. “You have done extremely ill,” he told her. “You know perfectly well you had no right to bring me up here; to drag me into a row in your road-house. ‘Hush it up!’” he exclaimed hotly. This time his laugh was contemptuous and threatening. “I’ll show you how I’ll hush it up!” He moved quickly to the open window. “Stop!” commanded the woman. “You can’t do that!” She ran to the door. Again he was conscious of the rustle of silk, of the stirring of perfumes.