"
"Cannot?"
"That's what I said."
"Will not, you mean."
"No, I cannot," asserted Rose.
"Be careful, girl, or it may become my duty to place you under arrest."
"I would not have you neglect your duty," retorted Rose.
"Do you still refuse to reveal the whereabouts of August Bordine?"
"I certainly refuse to tell what I do not know. He is not here--"
"But he has been here?"
"Yes."
"When did he go?"
"Not long since."
"Don't waste words with her," said the speaker's companion. "Let's search
the house."
"I fear it's too late now."
Nevertheless the two men went through the dwelling, even invading the
sanctity of Rose Alstine's bedchamber. Nothing was found, however. The
fugitive from justice had made good his escape.
And thus pretty Rose Alstine had assisted in a criminal act without
realizing it.
The police debated about arresting the girl, but in the end concluded not
to do so. They were a chagrined lot, however, who returned to the
station.
In the meantime Andrew Barkswell, safely disguised, hurried to the house
in the suburbs where he had left his wife alone, and, as he believed,
dying.
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