But she settled my difficulty by throwing open the door and facing me.
"I—I beg your pardon, Miss West," I stammered. "It has just occurred to me that I am unpardonably rude. I saw the hat down-stairs and I I guessed—"
"The hat!" she said. "I might have known. Does Richey know I am here?"
"I don't think so." I turned to go down the stairs again. Then I halted. "The fact is," I said, in an attempt at justification, "I'm in rather a mess these days, and I'm apt to do irresponsible things. It is not impossible that I shall be arrested, in a day or so, for the murder of Simon Harrington."
She drew her breath in sharply. "Murder!" she echoed. "Then they have found you after all!"
"I don't regard it as anything more than—er—inconvenient," I lied. "They can't convict me, you know. Almost all the witnesses are dead."
She was not deceived for a moment. She came over to me and stood, both hands on the rail of
