If the dryad had sold her dress, would the fresia
fragrance haunt it still? Petro thought not. The other woman would
have given it her own special perfume. Only in the possession of a
dryad would it have retained this scent.
Winifred Child had been here, then--in Logan's dining-room, near
Logan's table laid so alluringly for a supper _en tete-a-tete!_
This idea, passing through several phases, had shaped itself clearly
in Peter Rolls's mind by the time the policeman's round black head had
come up from under the table. And it was because of the idea that he
sat down deliberately on the film of chiffon. He did not want
questions to be asked, or Winifred Child's name to be mentioned in
this business, at all events, until he had made up his mind what to
do.
There was still time to make it up, and speak, if necessary while the
detectives were on the spot, for Logan had offered them champagne and
they had accepted now they were sure that all parties had been
victimized by a practical joker. "Girls' drink" was not for the
guardians of New York, and Sims was opening two frosty-looking bottles
of the "real thing" just produced from some household iceberg The men
would not go for several moments yet.
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