She shook her head.
"That I shall never tell you," she said simply.
"But don't you realise that you may be charged with being an accessory before or after the act?" he urged. "Don't you see what it means to you and to your mother?"
Her eyes closed at the mention of her mother's name, as though to shut out the vision of some unpleasant possibility.
"Don't talk about it, don't talk about it!" she murmured, "please, Mr. Tarling! Do as you wish. Let the police arrest me or try me or hang me—but do not ask me to say any more, because I will not, I will not!"
Tarling sank back amongst the cushions, baffled and bewildered, and no more was said.
Whiteside was waiting for the train, and with him were two men who were unmistakably branded "Scotland Yard." Tarling drew him aside and explained the situation in a few words.
"Under the circumstances," he said, "I shall not execute the warrant."
Whiteside agreed.
"It is quite impossible that she could have committed the murder," he said. "I suppose the doctor's evidence is unshakable?"