I didn't want to turn her in.
I shouldn't turn her in. It was my duty not to turn her in, for hadn't Defoe himself ordered me to investigate the dissident movement of which she was clearly a part? Wouldn't it be easier for me to win her confidence, and trick her into revealing its secrets, than to have her arrested?
The answer, in all truth, was No. She was not a trickable girl, I was sure. But it was, at least, a rationale, and I clung to it.
I coughed and said: "Rena, will you make a bargain?"
She stared drearily. "Bargain?"
"I have a room at the Umberto. If I get you out of here, will you go to my room and wait for me there?"
Her eyes narrowed sharply for a second. She parted her lips to say something, but only nodded.
"Your word, Rena? I don't want to turn you in."
She looked helplessly at the purple spilled pool on the floor, and wistfully at the sack that held her father. Then she said, "My word on it. But you're a fool, Tom!"