separate
train of thought.

"Did _you_ look through the holes at all?" he asked.

"No, I hadn't time."

"Did Martinez look through the first hole after it was bored?"

"Yes, but he couldn't see anything, as Number Seven was dark."

"Then you have absolutely no idea who fired the shot?"

"Absolutely none."

"Except you think it wasn't your husband?"

"I _know_ it wasn't my husband."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I asked him. Ah, you needn't smile, I made him give me proof."
When I got home that night I had a horrible feeling that Addison must have
done it. Who else _could_ have done it, since he had engaged Number Seven?
So I waited until he came home. It was after twelve. I could hear him
moving about in his room and I was afraid to speak to him, the thing seemed
so awful; but, at last, I went in and asked him where he had been. He began
to lie in the usual way--you know any man will if he's in a hole like
that--but finally I couldn't stand it any longer and I said: 'Addison, for
God's sake, don't lie to me. I know something terrible has happened, and if
I can, I want to help you.'

"I was as white as a sheet and he jumped up in a great fright. 'What is it,
Pussy? What is it?' he cried. And then I told him a murder had been
committed at the Ansonia in private room Number Seven. I wish you could
have seen his face. He never said a word, he just stared at me. 'Why don't
you speak?' I begged. 'Addison, it wasn't you, tell me it wasn't you. Never
mind this Anita woman, I'll forgive that if you'll only tell me where
you've been to-night.'

"Well, it was the longest time before I could get anything out of him. You
see, it was quite a shock for Addison getting all this together, caught
with the woman and then the murder on top of it; I had to cry and scold and
get him whisky before he could pull himself together, but he finally did
and made a clean breast of everything."

"'Pussy,' he said, 'you're all right, you're a plucky little woman, and I'm
a bad lot, but I'm not as bad as that. I wasn't in that room, I didn't go
to the Ansonia to-night, and I swear to God I don't know any more about
this murder than you do.'

"Then he explained what had happened in his blundering way, stopping every
minute or so to tell me what a saint I am, and the Lord knows _that's_ a
joke, and the gist of it was that he had started for the Ansonia with this
woman, but she had changed her mind in the cab and they had gone to the