See how one falsehood dragged other falsehoods in its train, and how every untruth I spoke made it harder for me to go back! It's a horrible slippery road I was on. And it was Walter Russell, the man I loved, who had led me there!
"Then you can say positively that you left the watch and chain safe in your drawer that evening, three days ago, somewhere between six and seven o'clock?" says he.
And once more I said "Yes," though the word seemed to tear me in half, and my colour was gone, and a shivering came over me.
"You didn't look again in the drawer, nor miss the watch, till yesterday?"
I burst out sobbing, for I didn't know how to bear it, and said "No."
The policeman didn't ask any more; he turned and went downstairs with father and mother. I stayed behind at first, but after a moment I thought I would go too, and I went to the top of the stairs, and there waited again, not certain what to do. The parlour door was wide open, and I could hear father saying—
"Well, what do you think of it?"
The policeman's answer was a deal lower, yet it came to me quite distinct—
"Mr. Phrynne, that girl of yours is not speaking the truth!"
"Eh! What! Kitty!" father exclaimed. "Why, our Kitty has always been as open as the day—hasn't she, mother?" says he.