“Haines?”

“Well, figure it for yourself. Evans gets suspicious you’re after him. He can’t buy any more at the store you speak of, walks up the hill, and gets Andy McDonald’s car. With that he can go to any of the valley towns where he isn’t known and stock up. He knows he’s wanted. He’s read the papers. He gets away all right. Then Haines passes him and slows up, and he thinks they’ve caught him. He not only makes for Haines. He takes his clothes, so he can put the car back and make a getaway before he’s reported.”

“Pretty late, wasn’t it? Shops open at that hour of the night?”

“Some of the mill towns do most of their buying Saturday night.”

Hopper threw away his toothpick. “All right,” he said, “it looks as though it checks. We may even find out that Evans was the lunatic the papers have been talking about. But he’s not crazy. Don’t get that into your head. He’s as sane as I am.”

“Then what’s it all about?”

“The district attorney thinks, and so does the commissioner, that when they get Evans they’ll send Stoddard to the chair. He’s what they’re praying for.”

Bessie stayed in bed most of that day. I don’t think my story of the night before had deceived her much, for when she came downstairs she looked ghastly. We worked together all afternoon, unwrapping the gifts which had arrived and tying them up again in white paper and red ribbons. She made neat efficient parcels, and she relaxed somewhat as she worked.

She had her plans all made. She had a man in New York who was in love with her, and she would take a cash settlement from Tony and get out as soon as the trial was over.

“Only it will have to be a big one,” she said. “I’m not selling out cheap.”

What she wanted was a million dollars! “I’ll get it too,” she said, tying a red bow with a snap. “He’ll come over, or else.”

We worked until late. In a burst of amity she asked me to stay for dinner, and as Tony was not expected and she seemed lonely, I stayed. The meal was almost over when Tony appeared. He was in a cold rage. He sent the men out of the room and sat looking at Bessie, across the table.

“I’ve been doing some investigating,” he said. “When you married me you had no people. God knows where you got the ones I saw, or what your life had been before I met you. As for the rest—Why did you do it, Bessie? Why couldn’t you have been straight even then? I wanted to marry you. I wasn’t looking for background. I was looking for ordinary decency.”

Bessie was white under her make-up. But she was still cool. “I should think it would be obvious, Tony,” she said, with her ironic smile.

“You never cared for me, did you? Even then?”