Free Hasty Wedding by Mignon G. Eberhart Page A

was that he did it because of your marriage. Now there’s no use in your evading the issue. Was he in love with you?”
    “He—he said so. Yes.”
    “Did he ask you to marry him at any time?”
    She couldn’t look away from him; she tried to and failed.
    “Y-yes. Yes, he did.”
    “And you refused?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did he take your refusal? I mean, did he insist or did he——”
    “Mrs Locke will answer all your questions, Wait, after she has seen her lawyer. She has a right——”
    “Answer me, please, Mrs Locke.”
    “He—I—Jevan, what can I say?”
    “Tell the truth, Mrs Locke. And I have a right to question her alone, Locke, if you want to leave.”
    “You need not answer, Dorcas——”
    “She must answer.” There was an ugly flash in the little man’s eyes. He spoke to the man nearest him without turning his head. “If he says any more, put him out…Now then, were you surprised when you heard, as the servants here tell me you did hear early this morning, that Drew had suicided?”
    Dorcas’ hands were clutching themselves together in her white satin lap. “I was horrified.”
    “But you thought he did it because of your marriage? Did you?”
    “I—yes. Yes, I was afraid of it.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I—because he had threatened——”
    “Oh, he’d threatened to commit suicide if you married Locke?”
    “Y-yes. That is, I didn’t think he meant it.”
    “And when you heard of his death you refused at first to go through with the wedding? Don’t lie to me, I’ve questioned your servants. They’ve told me of his visits here—yes, and of the pressure brought to bear upon you to bring about your wedding to Locke here——”
    “That’s enough. Get out. All of you. You can’t——” Jevan was standing over Wait, his eyes blazing from his white face, his hands doubled into hard fists.
    Wait didn’t move, although the two men with him moved up closer quickly. Wait said amicably: “All right, all right, Locke. Keep your shirt on. But tell your wife to answer my questions. We know too much for you to try to dodge them. Drew was murdered and somebody killed him.”
    “My wife knows nothing at all about it. You have no right——”
    “I have every right,” snapped Wait, his suave affability vanishing. “I have every right. Ronald Drew was murdered last night. About eight or a little after a woman was in his apartment. I want to know who the woman was. About nine-thirty a man was in his apartment I want to know who that man was. I’ve already inquired about Mrs Locke—the servants say she went to bed about eight. I’ve not inquired about you, Locke. What about it? What did you do last night and where were you?”
    “I was at my club. Any number of men saw me. You can easily establish that.”
    “What time did you leave?”
    “I’m not sure. Between nine-thirty and ten, I think. I was with Willy Devany.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “Home, of course.”
    “What time did you arrive there?”
    “I don’t know exactly. Devany brought me in his car; we sat out in front and talked a little. He might know what time it was.”
    “You mean young Willy Devany, of the Devany Packing Company?”
    “Yes. He was my best man today.”
    “And you were in his company from the time you left the club till you got home?”
    “Certainly. What is this? Do you think I shot Drew?”
    Something became fixed in Wait’s morose eyes. “Oh, so you knew he was shot?”
    “Certainly. It was in the papers. But how do you know he was murdered? Why did the papers first say suicide and later murder? Are you sure it wasn’t suicide——”
    “I’m sure,” said Wait and spoke to one of the men with him. “Take the name of Locke’s club and names of the men he claims saw him there.”
    “Check them?”
    “No. I’ll do it myself.”
    “Okay.” A notebook was in the plain-clothes man’s hands and he moved to Jevan’s side and began to question in a lowered, husky voice, and to