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Chan considered. “You knew Miss Fane in Hollywood?”

“Oh, yes, quite well.”

“It is wisely forbidden to speak ill of those who have ascended the dragon, but sometimes we must let old rules go down the board. Was there at any time scandal in the lady’s life?”

“Oh, no, none whatever. She wasn’t that sort, you know.”

“But she had what you call love-affairs?”

“Yes, frequently. She was emotional and impulsive—never without a love-affair. But they were all harmless, I’m sure.”

“Did you hear that once she loved a man named—Denny Mayo?” Charlie watched Rita’s face closely, and he thought she looked a little startled.

“Why, yes—Shelah was rather wild about Denny at one time, I believe. She took it rather hard when he was—killed. You knew about that, perhaps?”

“I know all about that,” answered Chan slowly. But to his disappointment, the words seemed to leave the woman quite calm. “You had acquaintance with this Denny Mayo yourself, I think?”

“Yes—I was in his last picture.”

Chan had an inspiration. “It may be you have photograph of Mayo somewhere among possessions?”

She shook her head. “No—I did have some old stills, but Mr. Ballou made me burn them. He said he wouldn’t have me mooning about over the dear, dead past when I was——” She stopped, her eyes on the door.

Charlie looked up. Wilkie Ballou, in a golf suit, was in the doorway. He strode grimly into the room.