n it, faltered a step
closer and studied me.

"They phoned us," scarcely above a whisper. "Mother sent me for the
girls and--Ina. Mr. Boyne," a break in her voice, "am I going to be able
to take Ina back with me? Or is she--do they--?"

"Wait," I said. "Here she comes now," as Cummings brought young Mrs.
Vandeman toward us. She moved haughtily, head up, a magnificent evening
wrap thrown over her costume, and saw her sister without surprise.

"Skeet," she crossed and stood with her back to me, "there's been some
trouble here. Keep it from mother if you can. I'm leaving--but we'll get
it all fixed up. How did you get here? Can I take you back in the
limousine?"

The big, closed car, one of Vandeman's wedding gifts to her, purred
slowly up the side drive, circling Skeet's old truck, and stopped a
little beyond. Skeet gave it one glance, then reached a twitching hand
to catch on the big silken sleeve.

"You can't go to the bungalow, Ina. As I came past, they were placing
men around it to--to watch it."

"_What!_" Ina wheeled on us, looking from one to the other. "Mr.
Boyne--Mr. Cummings--who had that done?"

"Does it matter?" I countered. She made me tired.

"Does it matter?" she snapped up my words, "Am I to be treated as if--as
though--"

Even Ina Vandeman's effrontery wouldn't carry her to a finish on that. I
completed it for her, explicitly,

"Mrs. Vandeman, whether you are detained as an accomplice or merely a
material witness, I'm responsible for you. I would have the authority
to allow you to go with your sister; but you'll not be permitted to even
enter the bungalow."

"It's nearly midnight," she protested. "I have no clothes but this
costume. I must go home."

"Oh, come on!" Skeet pleaded. "Don't you see that doesn't do any good,
Ina? You can get something at our house to wear."

She gave me a long look, her chin still high, her eyes hard and
unreadable. Then, "For the present, I shall go to a hotel." She laid a
hand on Skeet's shoulder, but it was only to push her away. "Tell
mother," evenly, "that I'll not bring my trouble into her house. Oh--you
want Ernestine and Cora? Well, get them and go." And with firm step she
walked to her car.

I nodded to Cummings.

"Have one of Dykeman's men pick her up and hang tight," I said, and he
smiled back understandingly, with,

"Already done, Boyne. I want to speak to Miss Wallace--if I may. Will
you please see for me?"

A moment later, he marched shini