Zara cast a surprised look at Clarice. "Well, I suppose it is to your interest to decline to believe. Nevertheless, what I told Prudence is true for all that." "Did you really see Mr. Clarke leave The Laurels at two in the morning?" Zara threw away her cigarette, and rose quietly. "I really did," she said, in her most decisive tone. "My mother was ill, and I went out for sal volatile. It was a mere chance, of course, that I should be out on that night of all nights. On any other night--at any other time, even--I should have seen nothing. But the Cosmic Powers, for their own ends, and for my benefit, I presume, brought me abreast of The Laurels, when Mr. Clarke was skipping out of the window." Clarice was greatly startled. "Do you really believe that Mr. Clarke killed my guardian?" Zara looked at her swiftly. "Oh, I am not prepared to say that; and I beg to remind you that I am not in the witness-box." "Which means that you cannot swear to the truth of your story." "Yes, I can; but I can't swear that Mr. Clarke is the murderer. It certainly looks as though he were guilty, but----" Zara paused. "But you credit Osip with the crime?" "The jury did--the police do--the papers do--public opinion does. I can't lay claim to be more clever than others." Clarice looked at her keenly. "Yes, you can, and you do. I believe your story of Mr. Clarke coming out of the room. But as to his guilt----" "Pardon me. I say nothing about that," interrupted Zara; "but if Prudence sent Ferdy away at my bidding, it shows that she believes her father to be guilty." Clarice was too clever to relate the other evidence upon which Prudence believed her father to be guilty. "You certainly coerced that poor girl into thinking that there was danger to her father, should the story of his midnight visit become known." "It never will," replied Zara, carelessly. "Prudence has given up Ferdy, and I am going to marry Ferdy. There's no more to be said." "There is this--that Ferdy shall not marry you." Zara rose and put her hands behind her back. "He shall." Clarice rose and faced her. "He shall not"; and for at least one minute the two women faced one another defiantly. "What can you do?" inquired Zara, at length, and annoyed because she could not sustain the gaze of her visitor. "I can go to the police, and say that you employed Osip." "Not knowing that he was Osip," retorted the dancer, her breath coming quick and sharp. "If I had known, I should have handed him over to the authorities." "Indeed, and what would become of your accusation of Mr. Clarke?" "I don't accuse Mr. Clarke. He's a bore--at least, he was when I attended his rotten old Sunday School--but I don't say that he is a murderer. However, you can tell the police about Osip, and I'll tell them about Clarke. Then we shall see." "Very good." Clarice moved towards the door. "There's no more to be said. Good-night."