“Could he shield you? No, my child, he couldn’t, but I can. You just trust yourself to me, and you’ll have no trouble, no trouble at all. You’ve got Mr. Saltonstall, here, and me for friends. Something tells me you won’t need anybody else. We’ll pull you through, eh, Old Salt?”
Though accustomed to the nickname from the townspeople, Mr. Adams didn’t relish it from this stranger, and he merely said, “I’m Miss Austin’s friend, be sure of that.”
“So’m I,” Trask declared. “Now, little lady, you needn’t tell all you know, but some things you must tell me. Anybody among your relatives named Truesdell?”
Only a quick eye could have caught a fleeting look of dismay on her face, as Anita promptly responded, “No—not that I know of.”
“Falsehood number one,” said Trask to himself. “What the deuce is she up to?”
But aloud, he only said,
“All right. Now, why did you come to Corinth?”
“To sketch,” said Anita glibly, and smiling at him. “I’m an artist, you see—I paint water-colors.”
“Yes—I see. Now, just why did you hide that stiletto of yours?”
“I was frightened. I was afraid they would think I killed Doctor Waring.”