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“On the beach, yesterday afternoon.”

“Have we communicated with each other since that moment?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Have I heard you say before that you killed Shelah Fane?”

“No, you have not.”

The fortune-teller looked at the Chief. “A little matter,” he remarked, “that I am rather keen to bring out.”

“But the handkerchief——?” The Chief turned to Anna.

“I dropped it on the lawn. I—I wanted it to be found there.” She glanced at Bradshaw. “It wasn’t mine, you know.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” bowed the boy.

“On the lawn, precisely,” said Tarneverro, “where I picked it up.”

“And put it in my pocket,” remarked Martino. “By the way, I haven’t thanked you for that.”

“Do not trouble,” Chan advised him. “You were not the only one Mr. Tarneverro honored with his attentions.”

The Chief went over to the woman’s side. “Go up-stairs,” he said sternly. “And get ready. You'll have to go down-town with us. You can tell that story again—at the station.” He nodded to Spencer to accompany her.

The woman rose, her manner sullen and defiant, and went from the room, with the policeman at her side.

“Well,” said Ballou, “I guess we can all go now.”

The Chief gave a sign of acquiescence. Wilkie