"You needn't assume me guiltless," Janet said, and her low voice destitute of inflection, sounded as if she were forcing herself to recite, parrot-like, a lesson already learned. "I had motive, and Mr. Leroy had none."
"He may have had a dozen motives, for all I know," I said, rather harshly, for I was beginning to realize that if she cared enough for Leroy to proclaim herself guilty, my hopes were small indeed. "He may have wanted that money himself, and come back to get it!" This was a mean speech on my part, and utterly unfounded, but I was so angry at Janet for shielding Leroy's name, that I cared little what I said.
"Oh, Mr. Leroy never wanted money; he's a very rich man."
"Who did want the money then? Did you?" I was fast forgetting my manners, and my determination to win Janet's confidence by kindliness, but I had not expected to have Leroy thus flung in my face.
"Yes, I wanted money," said Janet, "you learned that from Charlotte's evidence."
"You are the strangest girl!" I said, staring at her, "you won't tell me the simple things I ask, and then you fire a statement like that at me! What do you mean? That you really wanted a large sum of money?"
"Yes; ten thousand dollars." The girl whispered this, and it seemed to my bewildered fancy as if she said it without even her own volition. It seemed forced from her by some subconscious process, and I was both amazed and frightened. But I tried not to show my feelings, for if I would learn the truth of this surprising revelation, I must move carefully.
"Did you want that much?" I said, in a casual way, as if it were a mere nominal sum. "What did you want it for?"
"As if I should tell you that!" and this astounding piece of humanity tossed her head, and smiled almost roguishly at me.
"Never mind what you wanted it for," I said, "but you did want it, didn't you? And you asked your uncle for it, and he refused you."