"She may have wanted to steal them. She did steal the diamond star."
The Squire drooped. "Still, it may be bluff," he said weakly. "How did Clark know of it?"
"Oh, don't turn the knife round, father," said Humphrey. "It isn't Clark; it's Susan. She told me herself."
"She told you she was a thief!" The Squire's voice had changed, and was harder.
"Yes. It's a wretched story. Don't make it harder for me to tell."
The control in which he had held himself, coming down in the train, walking from the station with Joan, and first addressing his father, was gone. He spoke as if he were broken, but in a hard, monotonous voice.
The Squire's face softened. "Go on, my boy," he said. "Tell me everything. I'll help you if I can."
"I taxed her with it. She's frightened to death. I could only get at it by degrees; and there are some things I don't understand now. I shall clear them up when she's better. She's ill now, and I don't wonder at it."
"Where is she?"
"With her mother. She doesn't know anything. She thinks we've had a row."