The girl laughed, a trifle nervously. “So that’s how it was!” she said. “I was beginning to be frightened. Just what is it, sir, that you want of me?” “Business—always business,” said the Inspector ruefully. “Just when I’m getting interested in someone, I’m brought bang-up against my profession.... Before we conduct our inquisition, may I ask who your friends are?” An embarrassed coughing arose from the three people on whom Queen bent his eye. Frances said charmingly, “I’m sorry—Inspector, is it? Allow me to introduce Miss Hilda Orange and Miss Eve Ellis, my very dear friends. And this is Mr. Stephen Barry, my fiancé.” Queen glanced at them in some surprise. “If I’m not mistaken—aren’t you members of the cast of ‘Gunplay’?” There was a unanimous nodding of heads. Queen turned to Frances. “I don’t want to seem too officious, Miss Ives-Pope, but I want you to explain something.... Why are you accompanied by your friends?” he asked with a disarming smile. “I know it sounds impertinent, but I distinctly recall ordering my man to summon you—alone....” The three thespians rose stiffly. Frances turned from her companions to the Inspector with a pleading look. “I—please forgive me, Inspector,” she said swiftly. “I—I’ve never been questioned by the police before. I was nervous and—and I asked my fiancé and these two ladies, who are my most intimate friends, to be present during the interview. I didn’t realize that I was going against your wishes....” “I understand,” returned Queen, smiling. “I understand completely. But you see—” He made a gesture of finality. Stephen Barry leaned over the girl’s chair. “I’ll stay with you, dear, if you give the word.” He glared at the Inspector belligerently. “But, Stephen, dear—” Frances cried helplessly. Queen’s face was adamant. “You—you’d better all go. But please wait for me outside. It won’t take long, will it, Inspector?” she asked, her eyes unhappy. Queen shook his head. “Not so very long.” His entire attitude had changed. He seemed to be growing truculent. His audience sensed the metamorphosis in him and in an intangible manner grew antagonistic. Hilda Orange, a large buxom woman of forty, with traces of a handsome youth in her face, now brutally shorn of its make-up in the cold light of the room, leaned over Frances and glared at the Inspector. “We’ll be waiting outside for you, my dear,” she said grimly. “And if you feel faint, or something, just screech a little and you’ll see what action means.” She flounced out of the room. Eve Ellis patted Frances’ hand. “Don’t worry, Frances,” she said in her soft, clear voice. “We’re with you.” And taking Barry’s arm, she followed Hilda Orange. Barry looked back with a mixture of anger and solicitude, shooting a vitriolic glance at Queen as he slammed the door.