pulled the door open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was
conscious of the rustle of silk and the stirring of perfumes. At
the open door she cast a frown of disapproval and then, with her
face close to his, spoke hurriedly in a whisper.

"A man brought a girl here to lunch," she said; "they've been here
before. The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her.
Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here
to-day meaning to make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the
room at the far end of the hall. George, the water, heard the two
shots and ran down here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms
are fixed to keep out noise, and the piano was going. We broke in
and found them on the floor. The man was shot through the shoulder,
the girl through the body. His story is that after she fired, in
trying to get the gun from her, she shot herself-by accident.
That's right, I guess. But the girl says they came here to die
together--what the newspaper call a 'suicide pact'-- because they
couldn't marry, and that he first shot her, intending to kill her
and then himself. That's silly. She framed it to get him. She
missed him with the gun, so now she's trying to get him with this
murder charge. I know her. If she'd been sober she wouldn't have
shot him; she'd have blackmailed him. She's that sort. I know her,
and----"

With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. "And
the man," he demanded eagerly; "was it HE killed Banf?"

In amazement the woman stared. "Certainly NOT!" she said.

"Then what HAS this to do with Banf?"