“As I said, a few moments ago, I do, at this moment, think there is some connection, but I am quite willing to say, also, that it is, to my mind, just as likely there is none.”
“Then why did Alma want the book destroyed?” I demanded.
“Because she thinks there is a connection——”
My heart lightened.
“That,” I exclaimed, “proves you think her innocent.”
“I never said I didn’t think that. But thinking so is a far cry from proving it. If you, Gray, could only bring yourself to tell me the important bit of information you are holding out on me, I should know better where we stand. I think, boy, the time has come—if you’re ever going to tell—to tell now.”
I pondered. How could I tell them that I had seen Alma on the lake that night? How could I put her dear head in the noose?—for it was nothing less than that. I shook my head.
“There’s nothing, Kee,” I said.
“Don’t tell, if you don’t want to, Gray, but don’t think you can lie to me successfully. You can’t.”
“But, Keeley,” I begged him, “granting I do know of a point that I haven’t told you, and supposing it definitely incriminates the girl I love, can you wonder that I want to withhold it?”