“It seemed as if he wanted to kiss me, Inspector. He leaned over and whispered, ‘Good evening, honey!’ and—well, of course, I jumped to that conclusion. I drew back a little and said as coldly as I could, ‘Please let me go, or I will call for help.’ He just laughed at that and bent closer. The reek of whisky on his breath was overpowering. It made me ill.” She stopped. Eve Ellis patted her hand reassuringly. Peale nudged Barry forcibly as the young man half-rose to his feet in muttered protest. “Miss Frances, I’m going to ask you a peculiar question—it’s almost ridiculous when you come to think of it,” said the Inspector, leaning back in his chair. “Did the reek on his breath suggest good liquor or bad liquor?... There! I knew you’d smile.” And the entire company tittered at the whimsical expression on Queen’s face. “Well, Inspector—it’s hard to answer that,” returned the girl freely. “I’m afraid I’m not on intimate terms with spirits. But from what I can remember, it had the odor of rather fine liquor. Fine liquor—but plenty of it!” she concluded with a grim little toss of her head. “I would’ve spotted the vintage in a minute if I’d been there!” muttered Stanford Ives-Pope. His father’s lips tightened, but after a moment they relaxed into the suspicion of a grin. He shook his head warningly at his son. “Go ahead, Miss Frances,” said the Inspector. “I was terribly frightened,” the girl confessed, with a tremor of her red lips. “And feeling nauseated and all—I wrenched away from his outstretched hand and stumbled blindly into the theatre. The next thing I remember is sitting in my seat listening to the warning ring of the backstage bell, announcing the beginning of the second act. I really don’t remember how I got there. My heart was in my throat and now I distinctly recall thinking that I would not tell Stephen—Mr. Barry—anything about the incident for fear he would want to look up this man and punish him. Mr. Barry is terribly jealous, you know.” She smiled tenderly at her fiancé, who suddenly smiled back at her. “And that, Inspector, is all I know about what happened Monday night,” she resumed. “I know you’re going to ask me where my purse comes into it. Well—it doesn’t at all, Inspector. Because on my word of honor I can’t remember a thing about it!” Queen shifted in his chair. “And how is that, Miss Frances?” “Actually, I didn’t even know I had lost it until you showed it to me in the manager’s office,” she answered bravely. “I recall taking it with me when I rose at the end of the first act to go to the rest-room; and also opening it there to use my powder-puff. But whether I left it there or dropped it later, somewhere else, I don’t know to this minute.” “Don’t you think, Miss Frances,” interposed Queen, reaching for his snuff-box and then guiltily dropping it back into his pocket as he met the icy gaze of Mrs. Ives-Pope, “that you might have dropped it in the alley after this man accosted you?”