it."

"Very well; I was the man in room A."

"And who was the lady?"

"I decline to mention her name. She has nothing to do with this case.
You will easily understand that I do not wish to bring a lady's name
into a tragedy of this kind."

"I can understand that. Now tell me why you feel so sure of this man
Jones' innocence."

"Will you promise to keep me out of this affair as much as you can?"

"Why do you wish it? What are you afraid of?"

"Well," said Hammond, looking very much embarrassed, "I'm a married man,
very respectable sort of a fellow; and the lady with whom I dined was
not my wife. It's all right, you know. My wife is not a jealous woman.
But the thing would not look well in print."

"I won't make this public if I can help it, Mr. Hammond. Not that I have
much sympathy for you. You shouldn't have been there. But the publicity
would annoy your wife, and do nobody any good."

"Thank you," said Hammond, with a grim smile; "now I will tell my story.
There is very little to tell.

"We arrived before the other party. We heard them go into room B.