“You want to see me very badly, don’t you?” she said, without preliminary, and he nodded.
“What is it?”
Unless he was dreaming, her voice held a subtle caress, and yet that was a ridiculous exaggeration: perhaps “kindness” were a better word.
“Somebody went into Mayfield last night, accompanied by a Chinaman, and they got away just before the police arrived,” said Tab awkwardly, “and that isn’t all; that same somebody has been in the habit of visiting Trasmere between eleven at night and two in the morning, and this practice has been going on for a considerable time.”
She nodded.
“I told you I did not know Mr. Trasmere,” she said quietly. “It is the only lie I have told you. I knew Mr. Trasmere very well, but there were reasons why it would have been fatal for me to have admitted my friendship with him. No, not one lie—two.” She held up her fingers to emphasize her words.
“The other was about the lost jewel-case,” said Tab huskily.
“Yes,” she replied.
“You didn’t lose it at all.”
She shook her head.