"
"I will come," Tavernake agreed, "but I come as a listener.
Remember that I have nothing to tell you. So far as you are
concerned, I do not know either of those ladies."
Pritchard smiled.
"Well," he said, "I guess we'll let it go at that. All the same,
if you don't mind, we'll talk. Come this way and we'll get to
the smoking-room through the hotel. It's under cover."
Tavernake moved restlessly in his chair.
"What the devil is all this talk about crooks!" he exclaimed
impatiently. "I didn't come here to listen to this sort of
thing. I am not sure that I believe a word of what you say."
"Why should you," Pritchard remarked, "without proof? Look
here."
He drew a leather case from his pocket and spread it out. There
were a dozen photographs there of men in prison attire. The
detective pointed to one, and with a little shiver Tavernake
recognized the face of the man who had been sitting at the right
hand of Elizabeth.
"You don't mean to say," he faltered, "that Mrs. Gardner--"
The detective folded up his case and replaced it in his pocket.
"No," he said, "we haven't any photographs of your lady friend
there, nor of her sister. And yet, it may not be so far off."
"If you are trying to fasten anything upon those ladies,--"
Tavernake began, threateningly.
The detective laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
"It isn't my business to try and fasten things upon any one," he
interrupted. "At the same time, you seem to be a friend of Mrs.
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