Indeed, as the talk went on while that terrible meal progressed, I thought I saw a way to do it, if Lisa and I should act together.
I was so anxious to have a talk with her that I could hardly wait to get back to our own hotel, from the Ritz.

Fortunately, nobody wanted to sit long at lunch, so it wasn't yet three when I called her into my room.
The men had gone to make different arrangements about starting, for we were not to leave Paris until they had had time to do something for Ivor.

Uncle Eric went to see the British Ambassador, and Aunt Lilian had said that she would be busy for at least an hour, writing letters and telegrams to cancel engagements we had had in London.

For awhile Lisa and I were almost sure not to be interrupted; but I spoke out abruptly what was in my mind, not wishing to lose a minute.
"I think the only thing for us to do," I said, "is to tell what we know, and save Ivor in spite of himself." "How can anything you know save him ?" she asked, with a queer, faint emphasis which I didn't understand.
"Don't you see," I cried, "that if we come forward and say we saw him in the Rue d'Hollande at a quarter past twelve--going into a house there--he couldn't have murdered the man in that other house, far away.
It all hangs on the time." "But you didn't see him go in," Lisa contradicted me.
I stared at her.

"_You_ did.