"Oh!" she cried again.
"Then why should it not have been he who accompanied you to the Chinaman's, and afterwards took you in a second hack to the house in Gramercy Park?"
"Known, known, all known!" was her moan.
"Sin and crime cannot long remain hidden in this world, Miss Oliver. The police are acquainted with all your movements from the moment you left the Hotel D——. That is why I have compassion on you. I wish to save you from the consequences of a crime you saw committed, but in which you took no hand."
"O," she exclaimed in one involuntary burst, as she half rose to her knees, "if you could save me from appearing in the matter at all! If you would let me run away——"
But Mr. Gryce was not the man to give her hope on any such score.
"Impossible, Miss Oliver. You are the only person who can witness for the guilty. If I should let you go, the police would not. Then why not tell at once whose hand drew the hat-pin from your hat and——"
"Stop!" she shrieked; "stop! you kill me! I cannot bear it! If you bring that moment back to my mind I shall go mad! I feel the horror of it rising in me now! Be still! I pray you, for God's sake, to be still!"
This was mortal anguish; there was no acting in this. Even he was startled by the emotion he had raised, and sat for a moment without speaking. Then the necessity of providing against all further mistakes by fixing the guilt where it belonged, drove him on again, and he said:
"Like many another woman before you, you are trying to shield a guilty man at your own expense. But it is useless, Miss Oliver; the truth always comes to light. Be advised, then, and make a confidant of one who understands you better than you think."