“Why not before?”
“I couldn’t tax him about it in front of you,” he muttered, looking up and down quickly, unable to face her fierce excitement.
“Do tell me what it is you both know about this dreadful case!”
“I can’t,” the boy said hoarsely; “don’t ask me.”
“Then you know who did it. I can see you do.”
There was a new anguish even in her whisper; he could hear what she thought.
“It was nobody you care about,” he mumbled, hoarser than before, and his head lower.
“You don’t mean——”
She stopped aghast.
“I can’t say another word—and you won’t say another to me!” he added, a bitter break in his muffled voice. He longed to tell her it had been an accident, to tell her all; but he had given his word to Baumgartner not to confide in her, and he did not think that he had broken it yet.