Her face was white now to the very lips. Her hands trembled, and her eyes darted frightened glances, as if she knew not which way to turn next.
"Miss Pembroke," I said, very gently, "I'm more sorry than I can tell you, that you persist in secrecy. But since you do I will speak for you. You want to throw suspicion on J. S., in order to divert it either from yourself or from someone else whom you wish to shield."
"How do you know that?" cried Janet, looking up with startled eyes.
"It is not difficult to guess," I said, bitterly. "Nor is it difficult to guess the identity of the one you might wish to shield."
"Don't!" breathed Janet, clasping her hands; "don't breathe his name aloud!"
"I will!" I said, thoroughly angered now; "it is Graham Leroy, and you do love him, in spite of your pretended dislike of him!"
I paused suddenly, for a new thought had struck me. If Leroy were the murderer, and if Janet had admitted him to the house, and willingly or unwillingly been cognizant of his deed, then she would act exactly the way she had acted! She would try to shield him, try to avert suspicion from him, but of course she could not have him for her lawyer, and though she still loved him, she could not but scorn him.
The suddenness of these thoughts so overwhelmed me that for a moment I did not look at her. When I did, I was amazed at the change in her face. From a white pallor it had turned to an angry red, and my heart fell as I realized that she was angry at me for discovering her secret.
"Don't look like that," I pleaded; "only tell me the truth, and I will help you,—I will help you both. At any rate, I know that you were guiltless, even if you have a guilty knowledge of Leroy's deed."