At these words her head came up upon the slim column of her neck, and she looked into his face with suddenly bright eyes.
"You mean to say that--you mean to say that you can prove that neither Ross nor--Captain Macdonald is guilty of that terrible crime?" she gave out in a shrill voice, shutting her hands together in her emotion, and breathing hard. "Oh, Mr. Deland, if you have only found out _that_----"
"Not quite so fast, please," he responded a trifle sternly. "I'm afraid I can't give you any of the facts yet. Only I want you to know that--in one direction, at any rate--you may have some cause to hope. That is, of course, if my deductions are correct. It all depends. Even a policeman can make a mistake--isn't that so, Mr. Narkom?--and find himself led away upon a false scent. It depends a lot upon the wiliness of the fox he's in pursuit of. And in this case, when there's a--animal's a female, one has the disadvantage of the woman's intuitive faculties and natural gifts of deceit. 'The female of the species'--you know what Kipling said, of course? That sounds rude, doesn't it? But it's amazingly true, all the same--yourself, I'm sure, always excepted."
She made no answer to the little sally other than to pass a pale hand across a paler forehead, and pat a piece of dark hair into place, with that little gesture of forlornness which went straight to Cleek's heart.
"Then you have nothing more to tell me, Mr. Deland? Nothing for me to build my hopes on save that a new element has entered the case----"
"Together with an old element--yes," responded Cleek softly, with a stab at his heart for her pathetic appearance. "Just that. No more. I can tell nothing until I have you all there before me, and then--well, perhaps I shall be able to unravel the mystery for you, and put an end to your sufferings in _that_ direction, at any rate. Would you be good enough, as you're passing, to ask the constable on duty outside the library door to come to me a moment? Mr. Narkom and I want to question him about one or two things. There's another one _inside_ the room, so there's no chance of any one getting in and falsifying clues while he's away. Thanks very much."
She passed out, pale-faced, utterly forlorn, and the sagging droop of her shoulders sent another stab of pity through Cleek's heart, while Mr. Narkom--tender-hearted as a chicken, as he himself often put it--blew his nose loudly and passed the handkerchief surreptitiously across his eyes, and turned a sad face to his famous ally's.
