He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions which I am bound to ask you."
Her face grew suddenly grave.
"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you."
"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to tell me that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket."
She looked at him strangely.
"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you gave them up to him."
"I did not," he answered. "You know very well that I did not."
"It was your duty," she said in a low tone.
"Perhaps so. On the other hand," he continued, "you trusted me. The papers are safe."