"What is it you wish to impart to me?" I inquired, "and why should you suppose you would be held responsible for so horrible a crime?"
"I scarcely know what I am saying," he replied. "But my secret intimacy with Lizzie"--I caught my breath at his familiar utterance of the name--"becoming known to him now for the first time, might put wrong ideas into his head."
"Your secret intimacy with Lizzie?" I exclaimed.
"We have known each other for more than four months," he said.
"Secretly?"
"Yes, secretly."
"And the poor girl's parents were not aware of it?"
"They were not. It was partly my poor Lizzie's wish, and partly my own, I think, until I was sure that I possessed her love. She kept it from me for a long time. 'Wait,' she used to say, smiling--pardon me, sir; my heart seems as if it would break when I speak of her--'Wait,' she used to say, 'I am not certain yet whether I really, really love you.' But she did, sir, all along."
"How do you know that?" I asked, in doubt now whether I should regard him with favour or suspicion.
"She confessed it to me last Tuesday night as she walked home from Baker Street."