The Waterbury Democrat., 1937-06-08
CHAPTER X

Pats mind skittered about like a leaf in a whirlwind. Confused with her diverse roles, she admittedly faced threatening dilemma. The detective spoke admiringly.
 Say, you've got nerve, hid ing out at that swell joint on Park avenue. Pretty slick I say I saw you go in and I saw you come out but not a soul in the place ever heard of you. I mean that takes nerve"
 Pats remained silent. He had seen her go in When? She darted a glance at him. Sudden ly the vague feeling that she had seen him before cleared and she remembered. It was he who had looked at her so strangely in the Goddard hotel. The very fact that she entered by one door and made a nasty exit by another coupled with her appearance when the police were combing the city for a blond girl, had been enough to cast suspicion upon her.
 As they made slow progress through the crowded streets Pats came to decision. The time for playing games was past and gone. She would tell the truth, possibly not all the truth but nothing else. At last the cab stopped before a towering build ing and her captor suggested af- fably that they make a call on the district attorney. Passing through the foyer and into the elevator, he walked close to her, his gimlet eyes watchful
 Pats knees shook and only with difficulty she controlled her breathing. The more she tried to formulate convincing expla- nation the more involved she be- came. Actually there was no such person as Goldilocks so how could she be explained?
 The district attorney, a we'll groomed, youngish man, rose and the detective entered his off, flee. Several reporters crowded near as he listened to the detec- tivO,s story. Pats heard him say, Been trailin' her-Avalon - bold as brass-f1ts description-has dis guise in her bag" The color drained from her face, it felt stiff and drawn. Then the district at torney asked her to step to the desk.
 
 Pats took deep breath, swallow ed hard with a little ducking move ment of her chin.
 Name, please?"
 Mrs. Don Monteray," she answered in 8 small voice. The district attorneys eyebrows raised just trifle, the stoutish gentle man who had brought her in grinned.
 And your address?"
 Avalon hotel" Her eyes gazed at him imploringly. He looked kind, understandings"
 Gan you prove that?"
 With trembling fingers Pats opened her purse. Plumbing for her bank book the brown wig crowded into view. She felt rather than saw the significant glance which passed between the onlookers. Frantically she hunt ed. Everything got in her way - coin purse, tinted glasses, amber comb, compact, and always, the wig. Her questing finger found the small wedding ring. About to display the ring as evidence she dropped it back. It was valu- less. No initials had been en- graved inside. Hers had not been that kind of a marriage.
 What's the idea of the wig?" was the next question.
 Pats opened her lips. The truth nothing but the truth.
 TT wear it sometimes" she fa1tered.
 T see. Can't you find-what- ever you're looking for?"
 Pats shook her head. The bank book was not there. It was no doubt in the bag she had carried that morning. She raised deep blue eyes = two huge tears were caught in the lashes.
 T can't find it." she quavered with pitiful little catch in her voice. "But I'm telling you the