Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/74

“Why not be polite, Wilkie?” rebuked his wife. “Yes, Inspector, I was in the pictures, under the name of Rita Montaine. And if I do say it, I was rather well known.”

Chan bowed. “Could one of your charm be otherwise? May I inquire, please, how long you have been married?”

“Three years this month,” she told him amiably.

“You resided, perhaps, in Hollywood up to moment of your marriage?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Do you recall—was Mr. Ballou in Hollywood for some time previous to that marriage?”

“Yes—he hung around for several months, pleading with me to give up my career and take him.” Her husband snorted, “You may not recall it now, Wilkie, but you did.”

“What the devil,” cried Ballou irritably, “has all that got to do with the murder of Shelah Fane? I believe, Inspector, that you are exceeding your authority. You’d better be careful—I’m not without influence———”

“So sorry,” said Chan soothingly. “I will come at once to the present. You arrived here to-night at what hour?”

“At seven-thirty,” he answered. “The dinner was not until eight-thirty, but Mrs. Ballou got the invitation over the telephone, and as usual”—he glared at his wife—“she balled things up.”

“At seven-thirty,” put in Chan hastily, cutting off Rita’s reply. “Describe actions down to present moment, please.”

“What are you getting at?” objected Ballou