It was some moments before she had calmed herself so that she could go on. "You know our people, Professor Kennedy," she resumed, choking back her sobs. "Some said his dead body was like Jonah, and ought to be thrown off to the sea. Then others didn't even want to have it touched, said that it ought to be embalmed. And others didn't want that, either."
"What do you mean? Who were they?"
"Oh, there was one man,—Castine," she replied, hesitating over the name, as though afraid even to mention it.
"He wanted it thrown overboard?" prompted Craig.
"N—no, he didn't want that, either," she replied. "He urged them not to touch it—just to leave it alone."
She was very much frightened, evidently at her own temerity in coming to Craig and saying so much. Yet something seemed to impel her to go on.
"Oh, Professor Kennedy," she exclaimed in a sudden burst of renewed feeling, "don't you understand? I—I loved him—even after I found out about the money and what he intended to do with it. I could not see his dear body thrown in the ocean."
She shivered all over at the thought, and it was some time before she said anything more. But Kennedy let her do as she pleased, as he often did when deep emotion was wringing the secrets from people's hearts.
"He is dead!" she sobbed wildly. "Was he poisoned? Oh, can't you find out? Can't you help me?"
Suddenly her voice in wild appeal sank almost to a hoarse whisper. "You must not let anybody know that I came to you," she implored.