"I can only lay the facts before your lordship," shrugged the detective. He went to the library door, and, motioning quickly, returned followed by Hester Storm, who looked neither to the right nor the left, but held her eyes straight down before her, as if studying the yellowish pattern in the carpet. Betty watched her in surprise.
"There," Grimes pointed to Hester, "is my answer to your lordship's doubts. What is this woman doing here? She is a notorious thief and a pickpocket. Why did she come to Ipping House? Why did your lordship's friend, Miss Thompson, shelter her in that bedroom and try to prevent me from arresting her? The answer is easy. It was because Miss Thompson proposed to share the money this Storm girl had stolen from your lordship."
"That's a lie!" rang out Betty's swift denial. "Tell them it's a lie. You must tell them," she appealed frantically to Hester.
But the Storm girl never moved; she never spoke; she never lifted her eyes from the carpet.
And Grimes went on relentlessly: "If Miss Thompson was innocent of this crime why did she not tell the whole truth about it when she was alone with your lordship not half an hour ago?"
"I wanted to tell the truth," insisted Betty, "but I had promised this poor girl that I would do nothing until—until the detective had gone." Again she appealed to Hester. "You know that is true. Tell them it's true."
But the Storm girl stood there like a frozen image, her lips closed, her eyes cast down. And a sickening terror filled Betty's breast.
"Your lordship must see that there is a strong case against this young woman." Grimes moved toward Betty with a grim tightening of the lips. "You'll have to come with me." He laid a hand on her arm.
Instantly Bob Baxter stepped forward, his face as white as Betty's.
"Take your hands off that lady."