“And that he could not have had, could he?” she asked.
He looked across at her thoughtfully, watching her face, curious to see whether his words might have any effect.
“Only from one person,” he said.
“Yes?”
“From Macheson, the fellow who came here to convert us all,” he said deliberately.
Beyond a slight elevation of the eyebrows, his scrutiny was in vain, for she made no sign.
“He scarcely seems a likely person, does he, to aid a criminal?” she asked in measured tones.
Stephen Hurd shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but at any rate he sheltered him.”