Because of this hesitancy, he plunged in more abruptly than he meant to do. “Where do you come from, Miss Austin?” “New York City,” she said, a brighter look coming to her face, as if she thought the ordeal would not be so terrible after all. “What address there?” “One West Sixty-seventh Street.” “You told some one else the Hotel Plaza.” “Yes; I have lived at both addresses. Why?” The “why” was disconcerting. After all, Cray thought, he was not a census taker. He gave up getting past history, and said, briefly, “Were you at Doctor Waring’s house Sunday evening?” “Not evening,” she returned, looking thoughtful. “I was there Sunday afternoon.” “And went back again, late in the evening—to see Doctor Waring, in his study.” “Why do you say that?” she asked quietly, but a small red spot showed on either olive cheek. “Because I must. How well do you—did you know the Doctor?” “Know Doctor Waring? Not at all. I never saw him in my life until I came here to Corinth.” “You are sure of that?” “Almost sure—oh, why, yes—that is, I am quite sure.” “Yet you went over there Sunday evening, and came back to this house in possession of Doctor Waring’s valuable pin, and a large sum of money.” “Oh, no, Mr. Cray, I didn’t do any such thing!” “Then can you explain your possession of those articles?” “You mean, I suppose the roll of bills that Miss Bascom put into my top bureau drawer?” “Miss Bascom put in the drawer!” “Yes—that is, she must have done so, or—how else could they have been found there? You know yourself, now, don’t you, Mr. Cray, that I’m not a burglar—or a bandit or a sneak thief? You know I never went in to Doctor Waring’s study and took those things! So, as I say, isn’t it the only plausible theory, that Miss Bascom, who found the valuables so readily, first put them there herself?” CHAPTER XI THE SPINSTER’S EVIDENCE “That matter can easily be settled,” Cray said, and going to the door he asked Mrs. Adams to send Miss Bascom to them. With an important air the spinster entered the room. Holding herself very erect and even drawing aside her skirts as she passed Miss Austin, she took a seat on the other side of the room. “Now, Miss Bascom,” Cray began at once, “what made you think of looking in this lady’s bureau drawer for that money?” “I didn’t look for it, Mr. Cray. I merely felt that she had done wrong and I thought perhaps some evidence would be hidden away in her room. And a top drawer is the place a woman oftenest hides things.” Cray gave a short laugh. “Rather clever of you, I admit. But Miss Austin says she did not put that money there, herself—that it was a plant.” “A plant?” Miss Bascom looked puzzled at the word. “Yes; she thinks some in-disposed person put it there to implicate her, falsely.” “Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Cray, let her say who did it, and who could have got that money to do it with.”