“They may not be able to fasten this crime upon you, but there will be complications most distasteful. One’s liberty is well worth keeping—and then, too, before the case ends, there will be wide publicity—”
“‘Well?” said I.
“That is why you are going to suffer a lapse of memory in the matter of the hour at which you heard that struggle. As you think it over, it is going to occur to you that it may have been six-thirty, not seven. Otherwise—”
“Go on.”
“Otherwise the letter of introduction you gave to the captain will be sent anonymously to Inspector Bray.”
“You have that letter!” I cried.
“Not I,” she answered. “But it will be sent to Bray. It will be pointed out to him that you were posing under false colors. You could not escape!”
I was most uncomfortable. The net of suspicion seemed closing in about me. But I was resentful, too, of the confidence in this woman’s voice.
“None the less,” said I, “I refuse to change my testimony. The truth is the truth—”
The woman had moved to the door. She turned.