Carroll gazed at the girl before him with new interest.  Out of her chatter he had at last garnered one important fact.  His mind, trained to seize upon the vital and instantly discard the inconsequential, clutched the bit of information, and turned it over.  From the first Carroll had scouted the idea that the dead man’s fiancee might have been responsible for his death; but still it was a line of investigation which demanded examination, and his pretty young visitor was making that road exceedingly simple.  He injected all the warmth of his friendly, sunny nature in the smile which he bestowed upon her.

“You have helped me tremendously with that piece of information, Miss Rogers.”

“I don’t see how, particularly.  No one with any sense—­provided they knew Hazel, of course—­could even imagine her killing any one, and least of all an adorable boy like Roland.  She was so much in love with him!”

“Of course, I haven’t the pleasure of Miss Gresham’s acquaintance.”

“Of course not.  You’ll have to meet her, though.  She’s a darling!  Naturally, she’s all broken up this morning because her wedding date was all set.  Now all her plans have gone smash, and she really was terribly fond—­”

“You say you spent the night with Miss Gresham?”

“Certainly, and—­”

“Where?”

“At her house.”

“And you are sure she was there all night?”

“Of course!  We slept in the same bed—­and that’s certainly proof enough, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“You suppose?  My goodness gracious!  Don’t you know?”

“Well—­yes.  If you’re sure—­”

“Why, my dear Mr. Carroll, we didn’t even actually go to bed until a quarter before twelve.  At ten o’clock we made some waffles downstairs—­Hazel has just bought a perfectly darling aluminum electric waffle-iron.  It makes the most toothsome waffles—­all crisp and everything.  And you know when you use aluminum you don’t need any grease, so that makes the waffles much nicer.  I’m getting horribly domestic since Hazel became engaged, because she is learning—­”

“And after you made the waffles?”

“Oh!  After that we went up-stairs to her room, and put on our kimonos, and had a heart-to-heart talk.  I can’t tell you what we talked about, because sometimes—­well, it was atrociously risque—­as women will, you know, and—­”

“At a quarter before twelve you were still sitting up talking, and you had your kimonos on?”

“Yes, and—­oh, you just ought to see Hazel’s new kimono—­pink crepe de chine, trimmed with satin.  She looks simply ravishing in it.  I told Sis I wanted one like it, but—­”

“And then you went to bed?”

“Yes, just about then.”

“You are sure Miss Gresham didn’t get up!”

“Oh, I’m positive she didn’t!  I didn’t get to sleep until after one o’clock, anyway, and I would have known.”