Ann Doherty, inarticulate Jim, mysteries quite as obscure. _What do you think you know about Ann, gentlemen? Cute, blonde, and married: isn't that about as far as you go?_ _We are not what you see, we people who look at you out of clever photographs in the paper at your breakfast tables. When you burn the image you have created you burn the true self also, but you cannot know that self. I am here with you, and captured, and maybe you ought to fear me as you do, but I am not what you suppose._ III He met the flat patient stare of Sergeant Lloyd Rankin, which indicated a readiness like that of a dog who will not attack unless provoked. Say a Boxer: Rankin was built like that, and would fight in a Boxer's style, with single-minded courage closely akin to stupidity. He saw T. J. Hunter seated at the prosecution's table and turned partly away from the witness chair, making a show of rereading that transcript of Callista's ordeal. T.J. would be listening to the cross-examination, and sharply; but Cecil Warner had to admit that the show of bored indifference was quite as expert as anything he could have managed himself. This silence had lasted long enough, or too long; he heard fidgeting in the back rows; he could not spend any more time gloomily viewing Rankin's Boxer jaws. "Sergeant Rankin, when Miss Blake realized she would be under suspicion, you asked her--I think these were your words--you asked her who she thought would believe a story like hers. Correct?--that's your recollection of what you said?" "Yes, sir, I think I put it that way." "Meaning, I suppose, that you didn't believe her story yourself?" "No, sir--I mean no, I didn't believe it." "Did you suggest that she ought to change her story?" "Oh, I told her--more than once, I guess--that she ought to tell the truth about it, that she'd get a better break if she did." "A better break. Those were your words, 'a better break'?" He noticed a dim flush on Rankin's heavy cheeks, some flicker of doubt or uneasiness in chilly gray eyes. Rankin could have no way of knowing how much Callista might have told. "Yes, I think that was how I put it, Mr. Warner. She seemed to be expecting me to believe it, and--" "But she replied: 'Who knows what anyone believes?'" "Yes." "And asked then if you were going to arrest her?" "She did, and I told her that would be up to my superiors, not me." "This conversation took place in the kitchenette, after she had taken you out there and shown you the brandy bottle, and volunteered her account which you preferred not to believe?" "It wasn't a case of preference, Mr. Warner. I--" "All right, never mind that. The conversation took place in the kitchenette?" "Yes." "And you told her to go back to the living-room, and she did so?" "Yes." "She went ahead of you?" "Ahead of me?"